


Celebrity Crush

by rarepairenabler, softywolf



Series: Tes and Amber Write Stuff Together [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Celebrity!Derek, Intern!Stiles, M/M, bottom!Derek, writer!stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/pseuds/rarepairenabler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/softywolf/pseuds/softywolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wasn’t expecting to meet his favourite actor when Scott helped him land an internship on the set of Jackson’s new film, and he certainly wasn’t expecting Derek to fall in love with him. Not that Stiles was complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrity Crush

**Author's Note:**

> **This fic is the love child of[softywolf](http://www.softywolf.tumblr.com) and [ladybanshie](http://www.ladybanshie.tumblr.com).**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  _ **softywolf**_ : So I guess I'd like to firstly thank Amber for being pretty much the best ficmate ever and practically screaming 'no worrying allowed' at me nearly every second we were writing this. Second is my boyfriend [Ty](http://www.drmechanimal.tumblr.com/) for listening to me talk endlessly about this fic even though he really had no idea what I was talking about and being really supportive (and by supportive I mean wanting to read the porny bits and laugh at me because he's a dick like that). I honestly can't believe that this took two months to write and that we are finally fucking finished.
> 
>  _ **siredtosourwolf**_ : wow okay finally finished after two whole months of writing. I’d like to thank [Caitlin](http://wannabesexlinhoechlin.tumblr.com/) for pushing me to be less shy about my writing, [Tena](http://www.acawolves.tumblr.com/) for being the best cheerleader ever, also [Conner](http://thelittlestwolf.tumblr.com/) for being a sweetheart and not hating my writing <3 you three are awesome. Also, I’d like to thank Tes for writing this fic with me and for sharing my anxieties, my hopes, and my sexual frustration in this process. It’s been really fun as my first real attempt at Sterek and I hope you guys find it as enjoyable to read as it was to write.
> 
>    
>  **Other things:**  
>  \- thank you [Nashi](http://lonewolfed.tumblr.com/) for making this amazing [gifset](http://lonewolfed.tumblr.com/post/42127261412/teen-wolf-sterek-au-based-on-a-fic-stiles) for CC!  
> \- [author's playlist](http://softywolf.tumblr.com/post/42082989467/side-a-siredtosourwolf-1-all-this-time-one)

_His fingers were sweaty where they grasped the handle of the gasoline jug. His heart was pounding in his chest, the thumping loud in his ears as he hedged around his childhood home. The pungent stench of the slightly yellow liquid burned his nostrils as he dumped it over the outer walls and into any crevices he could reach. Tears stained his cheeks, shoulders shaking as sobs forced their way from his throat. He didn’t want to do this but for some reason, he couldn’t stop. His fingers trembled as he lit a match, the flicker of light flashing across his distraught features before he let it fall into the puddle of gasoline. As his home ignited in flames and the screams of his family echoed in the air, he stood by and he watched._

           Derek woke with a start, gasping for breath as his eyes attempted to focus in the dim light of his bedroom. He groaned as his alarm clock blared loudly beside him. He could almost swear that the air smelt faintly of ash. He could dimly see the thick tendrils of smoke rising as the hushed shrieks of his family echoed around him, leaving him with the same hollow feeling that he woke up to every other night. His chest felt heavy and sweat was gathering on his forehead as he turned off his alarm clock. Of course, none of it was real. Okay, some of it was. The whole thing was just missing one psychotic bitch that went by the name of Kate Argent.

           Derek shoved the name from his mind, sliding out of bed grudgingly. He didn’t need to catch a glimpse of his own reflection to know that dark, purple bruises had gathered under his eyes. They were always there, the permanent and physical reminder that even though Derek could daunt a smile for the press and force himself to sink into any role he was ever given, it was essentially an act. And Jackson was going to be pissed that Derek looked like crap.

           With a grunt, Derek pulled a grey Henley over his head and ran a comb quickly through his disheveled hair. It didn’t really matter after all, because his makeup artist was incredibly talented at what she did. Nobody ever saw the heavy bags under his eyes when they watched his scenes, but Derek knew they were there, beneath the surface. Half the reason Derek had set his damn alarm for six in the morning was because he had intended on getting there early. Derek Hale didn’t have a reputation for being the friendliest actor in Hollywood; he liked to avoid the after parties as much as possible, and if he managed to find a way to spend every moment off set in his dressing room, that was just perfect. Sociable he was not, but he was hard-working. He’d stayed up the whole night before rereading the script until every cheesy, poorly written line was engraved in his memory (partially because he was worried about what was to meet him if he allowed himself to doze off).

           “You’re late, Hale!” was the first thing Derek heard when he arrived on set. He rolled his eyes as the blonde haired man approached him, trying to remember the last time he had actually seen Jackson with anything but a scowl on his face.

            “I told you specifically to be here at 7:30 and it’s already 7:35!”

            Great. It was the exact sort of confrontation he’d been hoping to avoid. Derek bit down a sarcastic remark and apologized half-heartedly, unable to keep his annoyance from reaching his tone. It wasn’t as if Derek could afford to be the diva type, not when jobs were so hard to book. So he nodded, muttered something about being on time tomorrow and stalked off towards his dressing room while Jackson stood there scoffing.

           A job was a job, even if the script was written by amateurs and directed by Jackson, a jerk who he believed to be one of Hollywood’s most overrated directors. But Jackson was known for putting only the hottest actors in his movies, shamelessly throwing in scenes of almost full nudity while his scripts were typically riddled with clichés and outworn pop culture references. Derek had a stricter exercise regimen for this rom-com than he’d had for any of the action films he’d ever done, and that was saying a lot. This was why he found himself sitting in his dressing room, struggling to pull his ridiculously tight pants over his thighs.

           The kid practically fell into the room, arms flailing wildly around as he came to a halt just inside the door. Derek, who had stopped tugging the pants up mid-thigh when the door flew open, was staring wide-eyed at the tall, lanky stranger sporting thick rimmed glasses and messy brown hair. The awkward silence that had taken over the room was abruptly burst as the stranger began to spew apologies.

           “I’m sor– fuck, I’m so sorry. Jackson told me to come see if you needed anything like coffee or breakfast or something,” the words left his lips rapidly and Derek was having a hard time keeping up.

           “I totally didn’t expect you to be changing or like – yeah, you’re definitely going commando. Great. First day on the job and I get an eyeful of Derek Hale’s junk. While simultaneously embarrassing myself. Awesome. This is awesome.”

           Derek didn’t know what to say. He slowly arched a thick brow at the kid who was still sort of lingering awkwardly at the door, gaping while his long slender fingers tapped nervously on the coffee he’d been holding. Unlike the boy who was turning an amusing shade of pink, Derek didn’t blush. He was an actor, which meant he’d gotten over the whole shy bit years ago. He’d done way too many photo shoots in which he’d practically been nude for him to feel any embarrassment over the situation. But the intern Jackson had sent in was standing there still, glaring down at the floor as if he expected it to swallow him whole.

           “I should just...you know, go. Let you get back to that,” Stiles gulped as he raked his free hand through his hair. He practically scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Derek heaved an annoyed sigh as he yanked his pants up, angrily pulling up the zipper that practically dug into his crotch. He could barely move in these stupid pants. Also, the skeletal teen with the thick rimmed glasses had just run away with his fucking coffee. Derek grabbed the V-neck shirt Erica had laid out for him and pulled it on as he rushed to follow the intern.

           It took nearly ten minutes of wandering around the set for Derek to find him. Stiles had retreated to one of the break rooms and was tapping furiously at the touch screen of his phone. His lip was caught between his teeth as he kept his head tilted down toward the glowing rectangle. Derek found himself watching since he had yet to be noticed. The kid’s pale skin was spotted with moles and his hair was sticking up far too much in the front. His body obviously contained too much energy, unable to remain still as he switched his weight from one foot to the other in some sort of awkward little dance.

           After a while, Derek cleared his throat and tried not to laugh when the intern jumped and let out a high pitched sound.

           “What the hell, dude! You can’t j-just sneak up on people like that!” He said.

           “You forgot to give me my coffee,” Derek replied as he crossed his arms over his chest. The fabric of his shirt stretched over his biceps and he caught the flick of eyes from his face to his arms with a smirk.

           “Hmm? Oh, right, that,” the intern mumbled as another shade of pink coloured his pale cheeks. While purposefully averting his eyes, the teen thrust one of the cups he’d been holding in Derek’s direction.

           Derek took his coffee, taking the time to note that the name tag he was wearing indicated that his name was Stiles Stilinski. With a smile, Derek took a sip of the coffee he was holding, his fingers slowly gripping the Starbucks cup. He tried his best not to grimace when the scolding liquid felt much too bitter on his tongue. Definitely not _his_ coffee. But he didn’t want to chew Stiles out either, because it was the guy’s first day and Derek was just a tad bit amused by the way Stiles was still staring at him, blush creeping further up his chest, his pink lips hanging open and his caramel coloured eyes trained on Derek’s face so that he wouldn’t have to follow the happy trail Derek had only just realized he’d been revealing.

 _Holy Crap_ , Stiles thought, trying to force himself to stop staring so that he could possibly make less of an idiot of himself. _This is Derek freaking Hale_. The dude who he’d dragged Scott and Allison to the movies for every time he was in anything (Allison and Scott usually spent the whole time making out while Stiles scooted over, muttering about how he didn’t know them and that one day he’d have his revenge. And then there may have been drooling on his part when Derek finally appeared on screen). And he’d seen the dude’s junk. The same dude whose poster had been hanging on his bedroom wall for as long as he could remember. He used to tell people it was only there because it matched the colour scheme and about 0% of people believed him.

           His hands had been shaking when he passed Derek his coffee. He hadn’t even checked to see which one he had given him, he just wanted to get the hell out of there because Derek Hale thinking Stiles was an idiot had never been a goal Stiles had hoped to accomplish. He tried his very, very best not to look down but it was pretty difficult to ignore, and so was the sudden tightness in his pants. He thought of Scott, dead puppies, Jackson, anything. Derek grunted something, and walked off towards the set where Jackson was already grilling him about wasting his time.

           So there’s the possibility that Stiles openly stared as Derek’s perfectly shaped ass as he walked away. The pants were disgusting, a clear objectification of one of Hollywood’s best actors, and they were also pretty much the best thing that has ever happened to Stiles Stilinski. _Dead puppies_ , he scolded himself silently, _think of dead puppies or this is going to be the most awkward summer I’ve ever had_.

           At that point, Derek should have realized his day wasn’t going to get any better. All signs were pointing him directly at ‘worst first day’. It was hard to concentrate when he was forcing the too bitter coffee down with a cringe. He ran his fingers through his dark hair with a resigned sigh and went to find Jackson. When Derek finally tracked him down, he was talking with a fiery red head. They were standing close together while she spoke, using her hands to enunciate her point. Derek definitely wasn’t reminded of a certain intern he’d only just met.

           Jackson, upon seeing Derek, frowned even harder. And wow, Derek had no idea that was even possible.

           “Is that the shirt Erica picked out for you?” Jackson demanded. When Derek nodded in confirmation, he shook his head. “No, absolutely not. That shirt looks terrible on you.”

           Derek opened his mouth to tell his bastard director to go fuck himself when the redhead interrupted.

           “I think it looks great, Jack. Keep it,” It wasn’t a suggestion, Derek could tell instantly. It was a demand. He watched as Jackson deflated slightly and nodded. “I’m Lydia Martin.”

           Derek shook her extended hand and replied, “Derek Hale.”

           “Oh, I know who you are,” Lydia smiled sweetly before turning on the heel of her Louis Vuitton pumps. Oddly enough, Derek was reminded of a shark when Lydia had smiled at him.

 

* * *

           

           The next day Derek wasn’t late - in fact, he was early. Like every other morning, he woke up with the stench of smoke clinging to the fabric of his clothes, but he shrugged off the previous night’s wave of terrors. It didn’t matter that Derek was successful or that he lived in a giant house and drove a car with more horse power than he would ever need, he still couldn’t make them stop. So that was half the reason he hadn’t drifted back to sleep when his alarm sounded beside him. The other half was wearing khaki pants, a graphic tee and a plaid over shirt when Derek got there.

           It was amazing that Erica didn’t just kick Stiles off the set, declaring his outfit to be a monstrosity. Because Erica was like that. She tended to make a noise of annoyance when she brushed the concealer over the bags under his eyes, complaining that beauty like his was being wasted, being mistreated. Stiles’ eyes widened when he saw Derek, the same way they had the day before. The poor guy looked like a deer caught in headlights and he was quickly losing grip on both the stack of papers he was holding and the tray with everybody’s coffee.

           “Coffee?” Derek grunted making grabby hands in Stiles’ direction. He couldn’t fully function without it. But when Stiles’ only reaction was to blink slowly, Derek sighed and said, “Stiles, give me my coffee.”

           Stiles did drop what he was holding then. The coffee splattered on Stiles’ tennis shoes and up one of his pants legs before spreading across the ground rapidly. But the teen simply stood there gaping at Derek.

           “You know my name?” He sputtered, hands raised in disbelief. “Derek Hale knows my name.”

           “Well, you are wearing a badge with your name on it, darling,” Erica pointed out with an eye roll. “Do you have my coffee too?”

           Stiles’ eyes slowly moved from Derek’s face to where Erica was standing, regarding him with a bemused expression. He blinked as if only having just registered the fact she’d been standing there the entire time.

           “Hmm?"

           “Coffee, Stiles. Can we have our coffee?” Erica drawled slowly, her red slips curling into a mocking smile. Stiles nodded, and handed her the one cup that had survived.

           “Right then. Jackson expects you on set in a few minutes, and Stiles, I think I can find something else for you to wear…maybe even from Derek’s dressing room.” Derek returned her smug grin with a blatant glare because even she was getting a kick out the fact Jackson was having him squeeze himself into jeans that probably were the right size for someone like Stiles.

           “You take this as a small victory for fashion, don’t you?” Derek laughed, whispering low enough so that only Erica could hear.

           “I do,” she nodded, gesturing towards the coffee stain that had no doubt ruined what Erica probably hoped were Stiles’ only pair of khaki pants.

            “Definitely worth Lydia freaking out about her coffee, and she will.”

           Stiles watched as Derek left, apparently headed to the set to go over lines with Lydia who he was pretty sure was Satan incarnate. Even after he was gone, Stiles was staring in the direction he’d gone. Until, of course, Erica cleared her throat loudly in his ear. She smirked when he jumped, before grabbing his arm and pulling him in the direction of Derek’s dressing room. Stiles felt like a star struck little girl when it came to Derek, especially when he stepped into the room with Derek’s name on the door. He didn’t know what to take in first.

           There was a Kindle sitting on the vanity next to a makeup bag and Stiles was curious what kind of books Derek read. But then his attention was caught by the array of pictures that were taped near the mirror. Upon closer inspection, Stiles discovered they were all various pictures of Derek with different hairstyles. But there were a couple of pictures of Derek with other people. One was obviously his family and holy shit, Derek was adorable as a kid. He’d had a lopsided grin and shaggy brown hair and Stiles really couldn’t deal with that picture.

           “Let’s see what I can find for you,” Erica called from where she had just entered the closet. Stiles hummed to let her know he was listening but continued to investigate Derek’s dressing room. “What size shirt do you wear? You look skinny but it’s because your clothes are baggy so probably a medium, right?”

           “Uh, why do you need to know that?” He asked with a suspicious tone. “I spilled coffee on my pants, not my shirt.”

           “Yes, this is perfect!” She cried a moment later, choosing to ignore his comment. She emerged from the closet with what looked like an innocent red shirt and black jeans. He should have known right away that everything Erica did was anything but innocent.

           “I am not wearing this,” Stiles practically yelped as he attempted to loosen the material that clung to his abdomen. He had to admit that the colour of the fabric went well with his skin tone and hair colour but it was way too tight. Was she sure that it belonged to Derek? And _oh my god_ , the jeans. They were still just as tight on Stiles as they would have been on Derek. “I look ridiculous. Give me my Captain America tee back.”

           “I will not,” Erica grabbed it before he could, hiding it behind her back. “You look amazing, Stiles. You better fucking wear that all day or I’ll hurt you.”

           Stiles stole one last glance at the pictures. They felt vaguely familiar which sort of made sense because, hello, Derek Hale was a celebrity and they had probably done loads of articles on his family and how freaking adorable he was as a kid. He couldn’t remember a time when Derek had looked that happy during any of his roles either, including some of the slapstick comedies he’d done last year. But Stiles had vowed to stay far away from magazines that Derek Hale was featured in. His friends (in other words, Scott) already teased him endlessly about it, and the last thing he wanted was for Scott to find magazines about Derek lying around his bedroom. No thank you.

           “Remind me again why I had to change my entire outfit?” Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion as Erica practically shoved him out of Derek’s dressing room. The shirt felt too tight, like it was trying to strangle him, and he felt almost naked without the extra layers that he usually dawned. He fought the instinctive urge to cross his arms over his chest.

           “Again, you should be thanking me. I’m doing the world a public service. Anyway, you have approximately 10 minutes to get your hands on two cups of coffee before you have bigger problems besides looking great, like saaaay…unemployment.”

           Stiles didn’t bother to answer her. Instead, he glanced at his reflection once more before leaving Derek’s dressing room. He grabbed some of the shitty coffee that the movie studio provided and headed to where he knew that Derek and Lydia were working on their lines. Derek’s mouth was pressed in a hard line as his fingers slightly crumpled the script in his hand.

           “Look Tyler, we can’t keep secrets from each other, not anymore. Not when we’re the only one’s keeping each other alive. I came here because I thought my grandmother could help us,” Lydia said weakly, her eyes widening with panic as if she was actually afraid he would storm off set.

           “But they got to her too, and now we’re both trapped, in a world where there’s witches, werewolves,”she said, gesturing to Derek “and a family of woodsman who are hunters determined to wipe out both their existences. You can’t leave. I need you, and whether or not you’d like to admit, you need me too.” For a second Derek admired the way tears fell from her green eyes, how Lydia was able to force tears so easily. But that was until Derek found himself distracted by the sound of a familiar voice.

           “Two coffees?” Stiles sighed, making his way towards where Jackson was staring at Lydia and Derek with an eerie amount of concentration.

           “Derek? Hello, Derek? Your line?” Lydia snapped in aggravation, waving her hand in front of him. He managed to pull his gaze away from Stiles to look at her. She glared and gestured toward the script in his hand. He nodded and glanced at Stiles again. The teen was staring at the two of them with wide eyes from his spot behind Jackson. The sight made his heart stutter in his chest. Which what? He was not a nervous actor. He got over that a long time ago. Derek shook his shoulders out and looked away from Stiles.

           “Holland, this was something that I just couldn’t tell you. If they knew how I felt about you, they would have taken you. They would have used what we have against me,” Derek pursed his lips and looked away from Lydia. That was his first mistake. His second was turning his head in back in Stiles’ direction.

           And all hopes of staying in character were shattered, doomed. Because Derek usually had the ability of staying focused mastered, he had it down to an art. But he didn’t usually have Stiles walking around the set, arms flailing as he tried to explain to Jackson why his coffee wasn’t heated to the exact degree that he’d asked for or why he’d hole punched the wrong side of the lighting directions. Derek suddenly wondered what Stiles looked like when he wasn’t panting from running around all day, cheeks bright red and eyebrows drawn together in exhaustion. That was until Derek’s eyes traveled slightly lower and his train of thought was lost completely, turning to white fuzz as he bit down on his lip to stifle the murmur of approval that threatened to escape his mouth. There was no way Erica had picked the outfit out from his dressing room, because even he didn’t own anything that would cling to Stiles’ frame the way it was now. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug her or kill her. Probably the latter because he actually needed this job and he could almost feel Lydia’s annoyance radiating off her as she fixed him with a pointed glare. He ignored it though, because Stiles had just started to cross his arms across his chest in discomfort, but it only drew further attention to the definition of his arms, the tone that Derek had assumed existed there under all those layers. To have it confirmed made his throat unbearably dry. It was official. The whole crew was full of perverts.

 

* * *

 

           A few days later, Stiles had just finished typing up his essay for Mythology in English Lit on the use of lycanthropy as a metaphor for mental disease when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. With an exasperated sigh, Stiles dug his hand into his pockets, fishing out his cell phone which was starting to play the song ‘carry on my wayward son’ loudly enough that a few people who were close by glared openly.

           “Scott,” Stiles huffed, closing his laptop. “Don’t you have better things to do with your time than call me while I’m at work?”

           “No, not really. Besides, I’m curious to know how things are going, seeing as your work involves you hanging out with a half-naked Derek _Hale_ ,” Scott retorted and Stiles could almost hear the teasing grin in his tone. The bastard.

           “It’s fine, seriously-“

            “Have you asked for his autograph? Asked him to sign the poster of him wearing a speedo that I know you still have?” Stiles groaned into his hands. Scott was such a jerk. Allison had gotten the poster as a joke for some secret Santa thing, but obviously Stiles had kept it.

           “Will my life ever stop being hilarious to you?” Scott paused in consideration.

            “No. In grade 7 after watching his movie Children of the Wild you wrote your name next to his in your notebook like ‘Stiles + Derek Hale = loooovee,” Scott laughed and Stiles gasped.

           “Dude. You said you’d never bring that up,” he whispered in horror.

           “Oh, and you kept the movie poster in your locker.”

           “Scott!” Stiles hissed but he was drowned out by Scott’s laughter. “You made Allison and I watch Eyes On Fire like twenty times.”

           “Screw you,” he huffed, sure that Scott could tell just how mortified he was even without seeing the red flush that was steadily creeping up his neck and colouring his ears.

           “This will never stop being funny. Never.” Why were they friends again? The whole reason he had gotten the job was because of Scott, or rather Allison, whose father was playing one of the lead roles as a Huntsman who hunted down paranormal creatures and enslaved them. Derek was supposed to be playing a werewolf who was vengeful after having lost his pack to Chris’ hunters. Or something like that.

           “Ugh, I don’t have time for this right now.”

           “Fine, fine, I’ll call you later.”

           “If you’re forgiven,” Stiles sniffed, slowly pushing his screen forward.

           “Whatever you say, lover boy,” Scott chuckled before hanging up on him.

 

* * *

 

           Derek was grabbing something to eat from the snack table when he saw Stiles. The teen was hunched over a laptop, fingers tapping furiously at the keys. Derek tilted his head, watching, as he bit into a chunk of celery. He hated the strict diet Jackson always had his actors on during filming. Normally, Derek ate things like pie and ice cream.

           Derek walked over without remembering having made any conscious decision to do so. Taking advantage of the moment before losing his nerve entirely, he sat down beside Stiles who was too busy staring at his laptop’s screen with unwavering concentration. For a moment Derek let himself watch Stiles, whose pink lips were pursed as his long fingers danced across the keyboard in clumsy, jerky movements. It was beginning to dawn on him how much of a habit this had become for Derek, how fascinated he’d recently became with watching Stiles flail about, watching the exaggerated facial expressions he would make that were more contorted than anything Derek himself could pull off, or taking note of those hands that were always moving. Stiles was almost constantly typing away on his computer or jotting something down on one of the extra scripts. A small, tentative smile spread across Stiles’ features when he finally noticed Derek sitting there.

           “Heyyyy Derek,” he began before staring contemplatively as if he was trying to figure out whether or not to continue. “Hi. So I hope you don’t mind the whole Erica raiding your closet or anything. I sort of ended up going on a shopping spree afterwards as you can sort of tell. It’s just intimidating being surrounded by people who look like you all day,” he sighed in frustration, glancing down at the simple black t-shirt he was wearing today. “Anyway, I’m rambling. Again. I swear I’m not usually this annoying. No that’s a lie, I’m pretty sure I am. So here’s your coffee,” he said as he held out the coffee expectantly. He had this expression on his face like he was waiting for Derek to bolt, but instead he reached for the steaming cup (blatantly ignoring how Stiles’ slender fingers had just brushed against his) and stayed put.

           “You hate the coffee.”

           “What? I don’t-" Derek started to say before Stiles cut him off with an incredulous look.

           “Uh yeah, you do. I was such an idiot on the first day that I never even got around to asking you how you liked it. I know how many teaspoons of sugar Lydia likes, what temperature Jackson insists on having his heated at but I know nothing about your order. I’m the worst intern ever.”

           “You’re not.”

           “No, I am,” Stiles insisted confidently. “I’m just not very good at the whole coffee running thing. I’m always forgetting something, or breaking the damn coffee machine if I’m gonna refer to my last job. Technology just hates me,” Stiles groaned as he raked a hand through his short hair.

           “I wouldn’t say all technology,” Derek said gesturing to Stiles’ laptop as he spoke. He bit back a smirk when he spotted the Batman sticker attached to the upper right corner. He was pretty sure that Stiles had worn a Batman t-shirt the day before. “And don’t worry about the coffee. I actually don’t mind trying new things.”

           “Right. New things,” Stiles mumbled, his interest in the conversation with Derek obviously lost. He went back to pressing his fingers to the white keys of his laptop with new vigor. Ten minutes passed and Derek was called back to set. He glanced over his shoulder at the teen as he went to meet Lydia and Isaac on set. The teen had yet to look up from his writing.

           For the rest of the day, Stiles had his laptop out as often as possible. Stiles thought back to the stretch of time when he had used old fashioned pen and paper to write his scripts out and cringed – his hands hadn’t been able to keep up with his brain and he’d ended up begging his dad to buy him a laptop. He was immensely appreciative of it that day because the words were flowing like water. Except when Derek was trying to talk to him. And what was up with that anyway? Because Derek never instigated any conversation between the two of them. It was always Stiles rattling off whatever came to mind in the midst of his nervousness and Derek looking at him with a cocked eyebrow and an amused smirk.

           Eventually though, Jackson noticed that Stiles wasn’t always trailing behind him and threatened to confiscate and destroy the laptop if Stiles didn’t put it away. After that, Stiles was back to following Jackson around set.

           Which wasn’t that bad, actually, if it wasn’t one of Derek’s scenes.

           “Come out, come out, Little Red,” Chris called out as he crept around the side of the cabin (or what would look like a cabin, anyway). The gun clasped in his hands was fake but still intimidating as hell when paired with glare crossing his face. “We know you’re in there.”

           “Maybe the mutt managed to move her,” one of the extras called out. The stocky man also held a gun with his thick fingers.

           “I doubt it,” Chris responded, coming to a stop in front of the door. “There were patrols all night. If she was moved, we would know.”

           Just as the extra began to speak, the door to the cabin flew open. The fans set up around the cabin began to spin, sending leaves and dirt flying across set. Lydia stepped out with her arms raised in front of her. Stiles knew from reading the script that she was meant to have fire spreading on her hands but he couldn’t help thinking she looked silly now.

           “This what you’re looking for?” She smirked. Lydia held her hands higher and nodded behind them. When the camera swung around, moving with the actors, Derek was standing between a clump of trees with his hands clenched at his sides and a scowl on his face.

           And that was when Stiles lost it. He couldn’t stop laughing.

           “Cut! Cutcutcut! Damnit, Stilinski!” Jackson was shouting, hand wrapped around Stiles’ upper arm. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

           Fuck, he was definitely going to lose his job now.

           Stiles stumbled backwards, eyes widening as Jackson’s fingers tightened their grip. Derek’s eyebrows were scrunched together in a way that was making him look even broodier than usual, his hazel eyes darting back and forth nervously between Stiles and Jackson.

           “It’s no big deal, Danny made a mistake with props and the fire didn’t go off so we’ll have to reshoot the scene anyway. No reason to get…handsy,” Derek reasoned, his voice noticeably wavering as if he was struggling to keep himself under control. Jackson’s eyes narrowed as he let go of the grasp he has on Stiles’ arm. “Whatever, Stilinski, just go make yourself busy and stop interrupting us. This is valuable shooting time and I don’t have time for pity cases today.”

           Derek could feel Stiles’ eyes on him as he left the set but he didn’t look up.

 

* * *

 

           Filming was done for the day when Stiles rushed over to Jackson’s office with a handful of photocopied papers that were all due on his desk for the next morning. He slowed his pace when he noticed Derek sauntering out of his dressing room, looking disgruntled and exhausted. Stiles’ eyes zeroed in on the red stain on his abdomen where something appeared to be sinking through the thin fabric of his shirt.

           “Hey Derek, you got a little something there,” he said as he gestured to the ruined shirt. Derek scowled as he looked down at himself.

           “Crap, you have got to be kidding me,” he groaned, pulling the edge of his shirt up. Which Stiles wasn’t prepared for at all. The abs were nothing new, but the giant gash along his rib cage and the tendrils of blood streaming thickly down his stomach definitely were. Derek frowned as he reached for the handle to his dressing room.

           “Fuck, give me a second; I need to find some paper towels.”

           “Holy hell, Derek! This isn’t the type of thing paper towels are going to fix; this is a medical emergency,” he gulped, running his hand through his hair as he nervously scanned the set for anybody else nearby who could help him.

           “Stiles…”

           “Oh my god, you’re going to die,” he cried hysterically as Derek rolled his eyes.

           “Stiles-”

           “This can’t be happening. I think I’m going to be sick”

           “Stiles.”

           “Why the hell are you just standing there, dripping blood all over the place? We need to get you to a hospital. I’ll drive,” he said as he fished for his keys in his pocket, oblivious to Derek’s glare.

           “Stiles, for god-sakes, I’m not dying. This is just makeup,” he sighed as he dipped his finger into one of the fake gushes, painting a red line from his chest to his bellybutton. Stiles’ eyes followed the movement. “See, not real?” Stiles nodded numbly, ignoring the irritated look Derek was giving him as he reached out to trace a finger across one of the fake scars that snaked along his arm.

           “Oh. Whoops,” he blushed, yanking his hand away and shoving it back into his pocket. “Erica did a really great job,” he added when Derek made no attempt to fill the silence.

           “Indeed. Now I have to change shirts. You know, in case people start to think I’m walking around like a bloody corpse.”

           “Right, right. Why don’t you just-,”Stiles started when Derek cut him off with another look.

           “No, absolutely not. Jackson kept making snide remarks about people taking things from the set for like a week the last time you borrowed stuff from my wardrobe. I really don’t need to give him any other reasons to hate me.”

           “Fair enough. I think I have an idea,” Stiles smirked and Derek scowled in return.

           “Will it hurt?”

           Stiles considered it for a moment. “No, not technically.”

           “Will I hate it?”

           “Possibly. Don’t go anywhere. Actually, never mind. You might want to wash that stuff off before another shirt becomes a victim to Erica’s crafty handwork.” Derek nodded and peeled off the rest of his shirt, tossing it into the nearest trash bin as if the shirt probably hadn’t cost the amount of half Stiles’ wardrobe. Stiles stole one last glance at Derek, who looked grotesque but still somehow frustratingly hot, before running off towards the props section.

           The door unlocked with a sharp click and Stiles yanked it open, glancing around first to make sure nobody was watching him. Inside was a clutter of props, most of which hadn’t even been needed. There was a small collection of plastic wands with intricate designs, a few extra fans in case the others broke down, a table lined with all sorts of filming equipment. None of those, however, mattered as he drifted towards the clothing rack where the shirts for the extras were hanging. He eyed the clothing rack, pulling each of the shirts’ tags one at a time to try finding one that might fit Derek.

           There was nothing. Apparently whoever had been in charge of the clothing department hadn’t anticipated any of the extras having the body of an Adonis or body-builder. He couldn’t even bring himself to feel happy about the current situation, not really. Sure, it would be amusing seeing Derek in an outfit more suited towards someone say…Stiles’ size, but Derek shirtless wasn’t an unusual sight. Stiles had seen him without his shirt on more often than not.

           He frowned as he skimmed the clothing rack one more time, nudging each rejected shirt away as he searched. He glanced disinterestedly at the long line of V-necks, indie band t-shirts and wife beaters. His caramel eyes glinted dangerously when he reached a collared t-shirt with large, obnoxious, blue and orange stripes.

           “Perfect,” he grinned, pulling it off the hanger with one swift tug, and then smoothing out the fabric with his hand. Stiles folded the shirt over his arm, locked the door behind himself and practically skipped off towards Jackson’s office to deliver the printout of Jackson’s whole week schedule that he was probably going to have his assistant message him in the morning anyway. None of that counted though because Stiles had more important business to attend to.

           “Yoo-hoo, Derek,” hummed in a sing-song voice as he tapped on Derek’s bathroom door. He could hear the faint sound of water spurting from the sink and Derek grunting in dismay.

           “Stiles,” he sighed and Stiles took that as full permission to barge right in.

           “Der-" he began before his voice died in his throat. Derek was hunched over the sink, grimacing as scarlet, thread-like droplets of fake blood circled the drain. Derek’s chest was soaked, and Stiles tried to restrain himself from allowing his eyes to follow the streams of water than trickled down his chest. And failed, disastrously.

           “I-You-Uh,” Stiles sputtered dumbly instinctively leaning against the doorframe to balance himself.

           “Stiles, the shirt? Please tell me you’re better at fetching clothing than you are coffee,” he laughed, drying himself off with a towel. Not a single scar or fake battle wound remained. Just smooth, tan, _perfect_ skin. Stiles nodded numbly and hoisted the shirt above his head like it were Simba and he was Rafiki. Derek’s mouth hardened to a thin line.

           “Apparently not,” he glared at the shirt as if it had personally offended him and Stiles grinned victoriously, shoving it at Derek. “Seriously, Stiles? You couldn’t have found anything less…,” he trailed off, gesturing to the shirt that Stiles had dropped into his hand gracelessly.

           “Wonderful? Fashionable? Awesome?” he smirked smugly as Derek shrugged into the shirt, yanking it forcefully when the shirt rolled up so that half his stomach was showing. Stiles giggled at the sight. If anyone were to ask, it was a very, very manly giggle.

           “You’re awful,” Derek accused, following Stiles out of his dressing room.

           “Mhm, I know, keeps me up at night. So, we should get something to eat.”

           Derek was obviously about to protest when his stomach growled loudly. “Does…pizza sound good?” he asked and Stiles beamed.

“Sounds perfect.”

 

* * *

 

           “And so that’s how I ended up spending a whole night in one of Beacon Hills’ holding cells,” Stiles explained in between large mouthfuls of curly fries and pizza. Who even ordered fries with their pizza? Stiles apparently. Derek arched an eyebrow as he took a sip of his coke.

           “Didn’t realize I was hanging out with a felon.”

           Stiles gave Derek an exasperated look.

           “It was a misunderstanding, really. Just because I happen to be there whenever anything bad goes down does not mean I’m responsible,” he huffed.

           

           Derek just grinned over at him and took another bite of his pizza that was covered in nearly every vegetable the place had available.

           “Anyway, I had no idea you’d be such a cheap date,” Stiles joked, causing Derek to choke on his slice and send an anchovy catapulting through the air.

           “Whoa there, buddy. You okay?”

           “Yeah, fine,” he gulped awkwardly as he grabbed a napkin to wipe off the grease.

           “You sure? You don’t seem perfectly…hale,” he smiled lopsidedly. Derek rolled his eyes

           “Really, Stiles? Jokes about my last name, that’s what you’re resorting to?”

           “I know, I know. I need new material, but I thought I’d give it a try anyway. It’s Scott’s fault, I’ve been spending too much time with him. I’m gradually becoming less witty by the day. He’s been dragging me down to the depths of his loserdom,” Stiles sighed sadly, his pink tongue jutting out to drag his straw closer to his mouth. Derek watched in fascination as the straw bobbed in every direction and Stiles’ lips searched for it blindly without glancing down at the drink that hadn’t required a straw to begin with. Stiles pursed his lips as sucked on the straw from out of the corner of his mouth like no normal human ever would. Honestly, who taught Stiles how to use a straw?

           “So, what’s Jackson going to think when he finds out you’re cheating on his super strict diet?” Stiles asked, leaning forward and wiggling his eyebrows. Derek snorted.

           “He’s not going to find out. You’re not going to tell him, and if you do, I’ll rip your throat out. With my teeth,” he teased and Stiles gulped at the mental image of Derek’s teeth being anywhere near his throat. “Besides, it’s almost healthy with all the toppings I put on it,” Derek lied and Stiles stared skeptically.

           “Keep telling yourself that. I bet it tastes awful,” he said, grimacing at Derek’s slice where a piece of pineapple was drooping off the side.

           “It’s actually pretty good.”

           “Oh come on, there’s no way,” he said as he eyed the pizza suspiciously.

           “Try it then,” Derek suggested, leaning closer to Stiles and holding his other slice of pizza up to Stiles’ mouth until he could almost taste the grease and sauce. He bit into the pizza, moaning at the combination of gooey cheese, mushrooms, anchovies, pineapple, onions, and whatever else Derek had put onto his pizza. When he glanced up at Derek, his breath caught in throat and he momentarily forgot how to swallow.

           Derek was staring at Stiles with an intensity that made him shiver. He was still holding the pizza between them, and Stiles realized with a sharp gulp that _fuck_ , had he just let Derek feed him? Or was it his fault? Maybe that hadn’t been what he meant? Stiles was saved from the awkwardness of having to pull away or saying something when a girl tapped on Derek’s shoulder.

           Shocked, Stiles jumped in his seat and Derek dropped the slice, letting it fall back onto his plate. The girl had cute features, short hazel-brown hair that reached her shoulders and icy blue eyes that wondered over Derek’s arms, taking in the way the fabric of his sleeves squeezed his arms too tightly and highlighted every muscle.

           “Excuse me, are you Derek Hale? As in _the_ Derek Hale?” she purred, leaning forward a bit so that Derek had the perfect view of her cleavage.

           “Actually,” Stiles cut in before Derek had the opportunity to respond. “this is my cousin, Miguel. Just emigrated here from France a few months ago, can’t speak a word of English. He’s definitely not Derek Hale. Nope. Personally, I don’t even see a resemblance. Do you, Miguel?” he asked, picking up a curly fry and swirling it around his finger as he tried to sound nonchalant. He tried to tell himself the interference was for Derek’s benefit, but that didn’t explain the sudden fit of jealousy. Derek frowned over at the girl.

           “Ehhh…Non?” he mumbled, staring back and forth between the girl and Stiles with a perplexed expression. The girl didn’t attempt to hide her disappointment as she pouted and walked away with her shoulders sagging, turning back occasionally to glance at them curiously.

           “Miguel? Really?” Derek grinned, whispering so that only Stiles could hear. Stiles blushed, shrugging his shoulders as his cheeks reddened.

           “Hey, you’re the actor here. I thought you’d be betterat improvisation,” Stiles sighed as if Derek had disappointed him greatly. Derek snorted, picked up one of Stiles’ fries and launched it at him.

 

* * *

 

           Stiles went home that night with his head spinning and a grin on his face that was impossible to wipe away no matter how many times he rubbed his hands across it. He went upstairs to his room and straight to his bookshelf. His favourite film was tucked in a corner, away from Scott’s annoyingly observant (and judgmental) eyes. So what if it had come out over five years before? Okay, so maybe it starred a hilariously young and unfairly attractive Derek Hale. But Scott’s favourite was The Fox and The Hound and he cried like the giant baby he really was every time he watched it.

           While he waited on the DVD to load, he put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. It rotated round and round as he watched, mind still stuck on the fact that he had actually eaten pizza from Derek’s hand. Shit, how close had his mouth been to those calloused fingertips? What would he have done if they’d touched?Probably licked them. But then – what would _Derek_ have done? His brain was still producing various scenarios when he made himself comfortable on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a glass of milk.

           “So what are we watching?” Scott asked as he slouched into the cushion beside him. He’d texted Stiles just before he got home, asking to come over. And had apparently just let himself in without knocking.

           “Pulse, naturally,” Stiles grinned, digging his hand into the bowl of popcorn. Scott groaned as the credits started, fixing him with a _very_ judgmental glare.

           “Dude, Pulse is hardly a classic. And even you have to admit the script is like, embarrassingly awful.”

           “Rude. You picked the movie last time. And you didn’t hear me complaining about The Vow, did you? Besides, it is a classic. It’s Derek Hale. In an action movie, in which he’s a super hero. He’s even wearing spandex. Need I say more?” Stiles smiled as he scooped up another handful, fingers scraping against the side of the bowl before shoving the extra-buttery popcorn into his mouth. A few kernels escaped and rolled onto his lap as Scott sighed dramatically.

           “I was really hoping you seeing him at work would help you get over this…obsession,” Scott said as he gestured to the screen where Derek had just made his first appearance in the movie as a jaded, cynical anti-hero who has been entrusted with the daunting task of saving the world with his incredibility abilities.

           He looked like himself in some ways, but in many ways he didn’t. His mesmerizing eyes that flicker between shades so that Stiles can never quite pinpoint what colour they actually are were nothing new. His facial features weren’t as sharp and his muscles were missing their usual tone, but it wasn’t one of Derek’s older films where he could actually be considered lanky. Even with his characters sarcastic dialogue, it was clear he hadn’t mastered the art of surliness yet. His eyebrows were less expressive, too. By the time he’d done Pulse, he could exhibit the both-brows-slightly-raised-in-shock look, but he hadn’t figured out the one-brow-arched-skeptically, the eyebrows-disappearing-into-hairline-shocked yet, the extreme eyebrows-so-furrowed-in-confusion-that-they-were-practically-a-unibrow, or the gloomy-brow, which was equally impressive. On the other hand, his smile stretched further. It was one of those open smiles, the ones that revealed a full mouth of teeth so that Stiles had the chance to admire his admittedly adorable bunny teeth. And there wasn’t that usual clench in his jaw, less tenseness in his shoulders. So yes, the earlier stuff was definitely considered classic.

           “Ha, fat chance,” Stiles laughed, licking the butter off his fingers. “Besides, you’re breaking the one sacred rule of movie night. No speaking until after the credits finish.”

           “I can’t believe you’re making me watch this again. You’ve totally seen this enough times that you have all the lines memorized, haven’t you?” he laughed and Stiles ducked his head, still mouthing the next line anyway.

           “Oh shut up, we haven’t seen it THAT many times.”

           “Five times,” Scott huffed irritably.

           “Four,” Stiles corrected him, eyes glued to the screen as he licked his lips. The body suit really did fit Derek in all the right places. And Scott didn’t think it was a classic. Yeah, right.

           “Dude, you’re drooling over the popcorn,” Scott whined.

           “One more peep out of you and I’m picking next week’s movie too,” Stiles hissed, whacking Scott on the shoulder with the TV remote.

 

* * *

 

           For the first time in the week since he’d met Stiles, Derek dreamt of the fire again. When he woke, his cheeks were wet with tears and he was crying out his sister’s name. Her name was like ash filling his mouth. The bathroom light was too bright when he flipped it on and he couldn’t get the water to turn cold. He filled his mouth with warm water and attempted to wash the bitter aftertaste away.Once he could taste nothing but minty toothpaste, he took a scalding hot shower and scrubbed at his skin until it was tinged red.

 

           When Derek arrived on set he smelt of soap and aftershave and his disheveled hair was still dripping. More than anything, he needed a distraction. Erica had spent at least 20 minutes applying his wolf makeup and he couldn’t help but feel ridiculous. Nobody else was there yet except for Stiles of course, who was hunched over his laptop, gaze fixated on the screen. His hair was a bit off a mess, as if he had just rolled out of bed and Derek idly wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it. Rather than the fitted jeans and dress shirts Erica had been advising him to wear, Stiles was wearing a baggy graphic tee and pants that sagged loosely around his waist. His eyes were red rimmed and beside him were three cups of coffee that Derek assumed were empty. Without waiting for Stiles to greet him, Derek walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

           “Seriously, the curiosity is killing me. What are you writing?” Derek asked and Stiles flailed wildly, nearly falling out of his seat.

           “Whoa, man! You can’t just creep up on me like that! Especially when I’m in my zone,” Stiles gulped, closing his laptop so that Derek couldn’t peer over his shoulder.

           “What is it that you’re working on that has you dragging your laptop around with you?”

           “It’s a script actually. For a movie,” Stiles confiding nervously, a slight hue of pink tingeing his ears.

           “I didn’t know you wrote,” Derek mused, suddenly realizing that there was a lot that he didn’t know about Stiles. But he wanted to.

           “Yeah well, it’s kind of what I’m doing with my education. English major and such.”

           “Are you enjoying that?” Derek inquired, not moving his hand from Stiles’ shoulder.

           “Yeah, I guess. It’s interesting. Just the other week we were given poetry as an assignment. I sort of wrote mine on the process of circumcision,” Stiles laughed and Derek raised an eyebrow, his mouth twisting into an amused smile.

           “I’m sure your teacher appreciated that,” Derek laughed.

           “She better have. There are only so many things that rhyme with penis.”

           “So anyway, the movie. What’s it about?”

           “Oh, you know typical paranormal things. It’s a lot better than the Twilight fan fiction I used to write during my Twilight phase.” Derek raised his eyebrow even higher, if it were possible. “What? Everyone had a twilight phase, don’t bother lying about it”

           “Uh huh,” Derek laughed “So, team Edward or Jacob?”

           “Team Jacob, obviously,” Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I’ve always loved wolves. Besides, I don’t know, I think werewolves are kinda sexy.”

 

* * *

 

            Derek really had tried to pay attention to Jackson during the meeting he’d called but then Stiles had come in with everyone’s lunch. There was no way he was going to pay attention to Jackson going on about how shit the lighting had been or how much the sound guy had fucked up and could whoever kept pissing on the toilet seat in the lounge please not anymore – not when Stiles was in the room. Especially not when Stiles was wearing tight jeans and a dark red button up. He’d been dressing a little nicer since Erica had given him something from the dressing room. Derek had a feeling it had a lot to do with how everyone else dressed on a daily basis.

            After Stiles had passed out salads and subs and shouted at everyone to be quiet until he was done, the teen had slumped down in one of the chairs lined up along the wall. Now that Derek was really looking, there were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was messier than usual. Had he not gotten any sleep? Derek suddenly wanted to chastise him, shaking his head at him until Stiles yawned loudly. And then he wanted to take him back to the dressing room, make him lie down on the couch and dig the nap blanket he’d hidden in one of the makeup drawers out to cover him up.

            Stiles progressed from sitting up to stretching out across the row of chairs on his back in a matter of minutes. Derek smiled fondly at him, trying not to laugh when Stiles threw his arm over his head and one of his legs twitched. Yeah, he definitely needed sleep. Should Derek give him a lecture about it? He really wanted to. Did Stiles not understand how bad it was for him to not get enough sleep? Not that he had room to talk. Sometimes he didn’t sleep at all. Derek shook his head and chose the exact moment that Jackson was ending the meeting to actually pay attention.

            “I suppose that’s all for today. We’ll continue filming in a couple of hours so everyone needs to be back on set then,” Jackson frowned at the room full of people before he left. Everyone else streamed out after him, taking their half-eaten lunches with them and leaving Derek alone with a sleeping Stiles.

            He felt a bit ridiculous as he crept across the room to stand beside Stiles’ sleeping form. The teen was stretched out along several chairs, the arms digging into his back and thighs as he snored lightly. Derek watched the rise and fall of his chest and the way his parted lips moved as if he had something to say with the corners of his own mouth lifted in amusement. How had this teenaged intern managed to worm his way into Derek’s life so quickly and so easily?

            When Derek finally decided that his staring was probably some form of stalking and it was time to wake Stiles up, the teen started mumbling. His face was scrunched up in the most adorable manner that Derek had possibly ever seen. He leaned closer so that he could hear the words slipping from Stiles’ mouth.

            “No, why don’t you kiss me?” Stiles mumbled.

            Derek jerked back to look at Stiles’ face. He was definitely still asleep.

            “Yeah, just like that,” He continued. “Mmmm, you’re naughty. So naughty, baby.”

            On one hand, he found the sleeping teen so fucking cute that he almost couldn’t stand it. However, on the other, having Stiles say things like that, even though they were probably to some busty blonde girl in his dream, was making his jeans embarrassingly tight. He was trying with all of his might to hold his composure but it was proving to be a difficult feat. But then Stiles pursed his lips like he was kissing someone in his dream and groaning loudly and Derek lost it. His laughter was loud and felt so fucking good as it left his body. His chest felt lighter as he looked down at Stiles, shoulders shaking with each chortle.

            Stiles jerked away, arms flailing and almost hitting Derek. He easily ducked out of the way, still laughing as Stiles looked around, wild eyed and obviously still tired.

            “What.” Stiles said with a straight face as he took in the emptiness of the room. He raised his hand, fingers gripping his hair. He was alone with Derek. In a quiet, empty, dimly lit room. It was the beginning of at least seven different fantasies that included Derek. “Where did everyone go?”

            “Meetings been over for 15 minutes,” Derek answered still grinning. The sight of it made Stiles’ heart thump painfully hard in his chest. Derek’s smile was unfairly beautiful; it was like he was some kind of actual real life sunbeam. He felt like he could just look at it all day and be happy. But then Stiles realized what Derek had just said.

            “Have you been watching me sleep?” Stiles inquired, unable to hide the smirk on his face. “That’s kind of creepy, dude. And by kind of, I mean really, really creepy.” Instead of replying, Derek just glared at him. Stiles felt a guilt induced ache in his belly because of how quickly Derek’s grin had disappeared. He wanted it back but he didn’t know how to fix it. Silently, he watched Derek move to the u-shaped table they’d all been gathered around and sit in front of his lunch. It didn’t look like he had even touched it. “Have you not eaten your lunch?”

            Derek looked from Stiles to his unwrapped sub and back again. “No?”

            “Me either,” Stiles informed him as he stood up straightened his shirt. “I think I’ll do that now.” With that, he reached into the pocket of his jeans and pulled out something in an orange wrapper and began to open it. Derek followed the movement of his hands as Stiles came to join him at the table.

           “Is that all you’re eating? A Reese’s cup?” Derek asked with an incredulous tone.

           “This is all I need,” Stiles answered before stuffing his mouth with peanut butter and chocolate. Derek had to look away when he licked some chocolate off the pad of his thumb. “Reese’s is the best candy. Ever.”

           “No,” Derek scoffed. “You are sadly mistaken. Warheads are the best.”

           “Warheads are not! They’re so sour and they don’t have chocolate,” Stiles pointed angrily at Derek who laughed at the sight of chocolate on his finger.

            “The fact that they don’t have chocolate makes them the best,” Derek countered. He started unwrapping his sub, and once the paper was off, he folded it in half. The sub was so close to his mouth, so close to having a huge bite taken out of it that he knew would stop the growling in his stomach, when Stiles started talking again.

            “You must be insane, Derek. Chocolate is what makes the world go ‘round. And when you add peanut butter? Oh my god,” He was pulling the second half from the wrapper as he spoke. “I guess it kind of makes sense, though. It’s just as sour as you are. That’s why you like it, isn’t it? Sour candy to match your sour face.”

            “Shut up, Stiles.”

 

* * *

 

           Stiles’ fingers flickered madly across the keyboard, pressing into each key with such pressure that it was almost a surprise that none of them came loose. He was on a roll. He grinned to himself as he reached for his third cup of coffee. Was it his third? Maybe it was his fourth. Either way, he felt a bit jittery, and he couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing up and down or his fingertips from drumming against the table. Stiles liked to get to the set a little bit earlier, which was usually when he did most of his writing.

           He returned his attention to the laptop, his fingers moving in a blur and his face so close to the keyboard that his nose was practically pressed against it. His hands stilled after a final press against the ‘d’. _The End._ It was over. The script that he’d been working on since what he was sure had been the beginning of time, was done. The same one that he’d spent all of econ jotting down notes about instead of paying attention, the same one he’d woken up Scott for on several occasions to go over all the aspects of the plot. He felt his lips curve into a grin, and he didn’t stop himself from letting out a victory whoop, nearly knocking over his third (fourth?) cup of coffee while doing so. Because really, who was going to see him?

           Of course, that was the moment Derek chose to walk in, phone in one hand and script in the other. He arched an eyebrow, eyeing Stiles curiously as Stiles dropped his arms to his sides. Stiles thought about how he really had nothing to lose if he just took a chance as Derek approached. So what if Derek didn’t like him? Stiles would move on - he could even be professional. It wasn’t like this was the first impossible crush that he had ever harbored. Or maybe it was, but he wasn’t including people who he’d only ever seen on the ‘Big Screen’.

           Besides, today Stiles felt invincible. Untouchable. His pulse was racing, body humming with restless energy and giddiness. So he went for it.

           “Heyyy Derek. Listen, for a while, I’ve felt like you and I… have some sort of connection. And like, maybe we would make a good pair. So I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go out to eat sometime. With me. As like, a date I guess?” he blushed, scratching the back of his head nervously as Derek’s furrowed in confusion. “If you wanted to, or whatever, that’d be cool. It could be a celebratory thing since I just finished my script,” he smiled shyly, gesturing to his screen where the black line beside the ‘the end’ was blinking back at him. He could hear the shuttering rhythm of his heart as he stared up at Derek in anticipation.

           Derek frowned and reached out to pull something that had been hidden by the dark strands of hair that curled around his ear. Whatever it was, Derek let it fall to his open palm.

           Earphones. _Of course._

           How had Stiles not seen them? He felt like an idiot as he breathed out the lung full of air that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in. He felt relieved that Derek had missed whatever the hell that was, but his stomach still dropped when he gazed down at the white cord wrapped around Derek’s hand.

           “I’m sorry, what was that? I only caught the end. Something about you finishing your script?”

           “Mmm?” Stiles grunted distractedly as he fumbled with a pen that was lying on the table. He had the habit of fidgeting with things when he was nervous. Derek smiled as he shrugged out of his leather jacket. Stiles watched the movements of his shoulders with fascination.

           “Your script? The one you were telling me about the other day?” He laughed, pulling the seat beside Stiles out and sitting in it.

           Remembering why he had been in such good spirits to begin with, Stiles beamed. “Right, right of course. After all this time I’m finally done,” Stiles grinned happily, waving his arms around in the hope that maybe some of the flailing might explain the enormity of the statement.

           “Wow, that’s…that’s really awesome. Do you know what you’re planning on doing with it now that you’re done?”

           “I…uh,” Stiles started before snapping his mouth shut. He stared wide-eyed at Derek who chuckled in return. “I have no idea,” Stiles admitted, and Derek didn’t look shocked at the revelation, not even a little bit.

           “Why movie scripts? What made you start writing in the first place?” he inquired, peering over Stiles’ shoulder at the laptop in front of him. Stiles chewed on the bottom of his lip and gazed at Derek contemplatively.

           “Movies were kind of our thing,” Stiles started to explain as he folded his hands in his lap. “Me and my mom, I mean. It was just something we used to do - a ‘tradition’ in a way. My dad usually came home late on Fridays so we’d order in and have movie marathons. She liked to think of it more as a movie-education. Every Friday had a different theme,” Stiles brightened with each word.

           “Sometimes it was the typical type of theme, like classics, superhero movies, musicals. Most of the time, the theme was something like…remakes that shouldn’t have been made, movies that are ridiculously underrated, movies with awesome catchphrases. I learned the hard way that apparently it’s frowned upon for an 8 year old to run around yelling ‘yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker’ at people,” he shrugged.

           He frowned as he continued. “When she got sicker, she pulled me out of school for a week. We didn’t really talk about it, just carried on with our usual routine. It probably sounds silly, but it was nice, you know? That we got another chance to just be us…it almost feels like she knew. Before the week after that she ‘passed away’,” Stiles scowled at the euphemism as he shifted in his seat.

           “She sounds great,” Derek said with a sad look on his face.

           “She was. When she wasn’t watching movies, she always had her nose in a book. Like you’d find them all over the house –stacked on shelves, buried between the couch cushions. Dad used to complain about her even sleeping with some of her books. But he hasn’t moved them. Her favourite books, Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice are still hidden underneath her pillow,” Stiles confided.

           Derek nodded in understanding and said, “So this…the script…”

           “I just felt like it was something I had to do. Like so long as I didn’t let all those Saturdays go to waste…I just wanted to do something with my life that would make her proud. And it’s something I’m good at. Or at least I think I’m good at. A lot better than I am at lacrosse. Anyway, this all probably sounds stupid. I’m sorry for talking your ear off,” Stiles laughed shakily and Derek placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

           “It’s not stupid. And I’m sure your script is great. In fact, I would love to read it.”

           Stiles gaped at Derek before a wide, lopsided grin spread across his face. It was the kind that made Derek’s heart stutter in his chest.

           “I-you… You’d seriously do that?” Stiles asked in disbelief. “You’d do that for the annoying intern who never gets anybody’s order right?”

           “Sure,” Derek shrugged like it was a no big deal. If only Stiles could see the way he was biting at his cheek to keep from smiling or saying more than he should.

           “That’s…wow. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem, Stiles. I’ve got to go see Jackson about something. I’ll come find you after, alright?” he grinned, lifting his hand from Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles nodded enthusiastically in reply before Derek stalked off towards Jackson. 

 

* * *

 

           Derek couldn’t be entirely sure what had led him to an office supply shop during his break. He didn’t even recall making the decision to go. Yet there he was, standing in an aisle full of pens and pencils. He glared at the displays before grabbing a shiny black and yellow pen that cost nearly 15$. A little more wandering brought him to the notebook aisle. He didn’t have the tiniest clue what it was he was looking for until he saw it.

           The notebook was average size but what made it special was the golden Batman symbol printed on the black cover. Stiles would love it.

           It didn’t occur to him that the fact that he’d bought Stiles a gift was a bit weird until after he’d paid for the pen, notebook and a Reese’s Cup that caught his eye at the check-out. Why exactly was he buying Stiles a gift? Were they friends? Derek didn’t really have any to compare their relationship to but he wasn’t entirely sure. He considered Stiles his friend, probably the only one he had besides Erica but did Stiles think of him as one as well? Derek was tempted to toss it but then he saw Stiles sitting with his laptop again. He was so fucked. And he couldn’t even bring himself to care as he laid the gift where he knew Stiles would see it. A small slip of paper with the teen’s name on it was the only clue that Derek left behind.

           Derek was sure the gesture had gone unnoticed until he caught Erica smirking at him, her brown eyes darting back and forth between him and the notebook. Crap.

           “Derek…are you trying to seduce Jackson’s intern with gifts?” she laughed.

           “No. Of course not. I’m just…being friendly.”

           “You? Friendly? The same Derek that spends most of his time in his trailer and glares at all of his cast mates? I don’t think so. Apparently I’m not the only one who wants to get Stilinski out of his pants,” she smiled wickedly and Derek groaned. He followed her to the makeup chair and sat down.

           “Erica-”

           “I’m just saying - kid’s got you wrapped around his finger. I guess he’s sort of cute if you can get past the obsession with superheroes…which apparently you can.” She started applying his makeup.

           “I swear to god Erica…”

           “And I mean, it’s pretty obvious the feeling is mutual. Have you seen the way he stares at you? Oh Derek, you’re so hot. _Do me, Derek, do me_!” Erica whispered dramatically before dissolving into laughter. Derek rolled his eyes, glad that his makeup hid the blush that flushed his skin.

           “Is there any reason you came to talk to me, or are you just here to mock me?”

           “As amusing as the latter is, I came to tell you have an interview tomorrow and that you should prepare to socialize with people who aren’t cute interns,” she said before winking and leaving Derek shaking his head.

 

* * *

 

 

           The first thing Stiles did after closing his laptop was head straight for the snack table. His stomach had been growling unhappily at him for over an hour. He’d chosen to ignore it, having been in the zone and all. It had reached the point, however, of no return. Stiles had to eat immediately. Glaring at the options, all some sort of fruit and veggie by Jackson’s demand, Stiles grabbed a paper plate and piled cucumber slices on it.

           It was when he reached for the ranch that he saw the slip of paper with his name on it. He looked around him, a confused expression on his face, to make sure that he was alone before putting his plate down and reaching for the small pile underneath his name.

           “Oh my god,” he gasped as he looked down at what he held in his hand. “Holy friggin’ – Batman and a Reese’s Cups? Am I in Heaven?”

           Stiles grinned and ripped the orange packaging open. The chocolate and peanut butter was like an orgasm in his mouth and he moaned loudly.

           “Who’s that from?” Erica’s voice came from over his shoulder. He whipped around with his tongue out as he’d been ready to lick the chocolate off of his fingers.

           “I don’t know,” he told her with wide eyes, fingers clutching it tightly as if he were afraid she was going to try and take it away. “It’s for me though. It says my name on it.”

           “I know it does,” Erica smiled at him. “I was just wondering if you knew who it was from. Since it’s obviously a gift.For you.From someone.”

           Stiles didn’t know what she was trying to get at, but it was obvious that she knew who this perfect and amazing gift was from.

           “Do you know who it’s from?” He asked her with a sigh.

           “Maybe I do,” she grinned wolfishly. “And if you want me to tell you, it’s going to cost you.”

 

* * *

 

           For the next few days Derek did everything within his will to avoid Stiles who kept giving him these sidelong glances and sly grins as if he knew something, like he knew what his existence did to Derek, how torturous it was to restrain himself from crossing the room, and pulling Stiles into his arms. His dream that night had only made things worse. He dreamed of fire, but it was a different kind of fire – not the kind that started from matches and burned everything.

           There was no Kate. There were no screams. This dream was nothing but him and Stiles - lips that scorched his skin as they brushed against hisand then ghosted down his neck. He dreamt of melting under Stiles’ long, slender fingers as they fisted his shirt and stroked his thighs. And of Stiles’ caramel brown eyes watching him steadily, flicking between his eyes and his mouth. He dreamt of fire spreading through his veins, of Stiles’ steady touch leaving him with an ache that threatened to engulf him whole.It was a fire that opposed the type that he associated with Kate, the type that destroyed everything and left him feeling empty and gasping for air. Because he didn’t wake up feeling a sharp stab of pain in his chest. Instead he felt hunger, want, _need_. And he hadn’t felt like that for a long time.

           At least, he wouldn’t be burdened with the impossible task of avoiding Stiles. He had an interview with a red-haired woman, whose name tag read ‘Stacy’, who was fixing him with a predatory gaze.

           “This is Stacy Matthews, here with Derek Hale. So tell us, what is your new movie about?” She asked, slowly moving closer. Derek sighed, preparing himself to begin the speech he’d carefully rehearsed about a confused werewolf who had lost his pack and seeks revenge but finds love with an equally distressed witch who went by the name of ‘Red’. She managed to ask a few simple questions about the movie and what working with his cast was like before her smile widened and Derek could feel his stomach clench. He knew that look. It was the look of a reporter about to get the scoop that would make their career. It was the look of someone who knew something that he didn’t. He hated that damn look.

           “So Derek, I assume you’ve heard the news that Kate Argent was released today from the mental institution,” she began already knowing that Derek hadn’t, of course. His agent hadn’t even called to talk to him about it that morning. Derek’s skin visibly paled and he clenched his hands into hard fists until his knuckles turned white.

           “No,” he gulped, trying to avoid staring directly at the cameras. He knew how his voice sounded, how it was strained and the way it trembled whenever his ex was brought up.

           “And how does that make you feel?” she continued, her tone sweet as honey, “working with her brother, Chris Argent. Things must be tense.” It made him sick, like a wave of nausea had passed over him and he wanted to bolt, to vomit. It made him angry enough to punch the wall, but he stayed seated on the leather couch, practically buried in the material. He didn’t say any of those things because it was exactly what she wanted to hear.More than anything, people wanted to see him break, to see him crumble in front of them, at _her_ feet.

           “It’s fine, Chris is a great guy,” Derek replied simply and he watched with annoyance as her smile faltered.

           “What about your other cast mates?” She asked, probably seeing that she wouldn’t be able to get anything more about the subject out of him.

           “They’re amazing. Especially Lydia. Even if she might kind of scare me,” He laughed when Stacy laughed. This was better. This was an easy topic.

           Regaining determination, Stacy’s smile widened and she placed a hand on his arm. “Of course, we’ve been told how well the two of you get along. But we haven’t heard anything about a girlfriend since Kate. You’ve been practically off the radar for years. So tell us, because we’re dying to know what’s caused your ‘dramatic change’ around set. Is there anyone special in your life right now, Derek?”

           “There’s um…there’s someone,” the words gushed free as he thought of Stiles and his laptop, the one with the batman sticker on it. And his plush pink lips and witty retorts. He tried not to think of the bitter coffee Stiles had handed him a few days ago without noticing that it was his own and not Derek’s because he was too busy grinning at him as they argued DC vs. Marvel. “That I’m interested in, I mean. I guess you could call it a crush,” he added and cringed as the hungry, determined stare returned.

           Obviously she had found her scoop. But Derek wasn’t going to give her a name, not when he had no idea how Stiles felt about him, not when he didn’t want to drag Stiles into this. Also, since when had he decided he had a crush on Stiles? He was so screwed.

 

* * *

 

           “You can’t just announce you’re interested in someone on national television without first consulting me or the producers.”

           Derek was getting kind of sick of Jackson’s chosen manner of greeting him. He always jumped straight into bitching him out for whatever reason. Why had he ever agreed to working with this douche?

           “As far as I know, there was nothing in my contract about my relationships or even prospective ones,” Derek replied calmly as he sat in the chair across from Jackson. Who knew that Derek was right if the slump of his shoulders said anything.

           “Fine,” Jackson sighed, his hand reaching towards his cellphone as if he’d already dismissed Derek. “At least tell me who it is and we can try to put a spin on it that’ll work for everyone.”

           Derek sunk further into his seat, glaring at the blond who was watching him expectantly like it was any of his damn business.

           “Derek, we don’t have all day. This could be the exact type of attention our movie needs or it could be the worst if people think our leading man is suddenly unobtainable and off the market. You understand this, of course,” Jackson reasoned, his voice flat and his face vacant of expression with the exception of a hint of annoyance.

           “Right. I get it. It’s nothing, okay?” How had he gotten to the point where he was discussing his infatuation with Stiles with this prick?

           “Would you rather all the press coverage about Kate to be tomorrow’s cover story,” he shrugged indifferently and Derek could feel his blood begin to boil and every muscle in his body stiffen at just the mention of her. A triumphant grin spread across Jackson’s face, indicating that he clearly believed he’d already won.

           “Whatever. They can do whatever they want,” Derek muttered as he got up from his seat and wrenched the door open.

           “But who was it-" he started to call as Derek stormed out of the room.

           “Whoever you want it to be,” he shouted, slamming the door behind him “Jackass.”

           Derek was still fuming when he reached his dressing room. He barreled into the room and slammed the door behind him before he even noticed Erica sitting near the vanity. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him, taking in all of his obvious anger.

           “Everything okay?” She inquired as she tucked her phone into her pocket and cautiously stood up.

           “No because Jackson is the biggest dick in all of Hollywood,” Derek huffed through gritted teeth while crossing his arms across his chest. His hands clenched into fists at the fold of his arms and he met her eyes. A small smirk flickered across her painted red lips and it caused a surge of fresh anger in his chest. The smirk disappeared when he glared at her.

           “Everyone knows this, Derek. And everyone deals with it because he’s also one of the best directors in Hollywood,” she responded with a shrug that said ‘what can you do about it?’ “I guess what I’m trying to say is – deal with it if you don’t want to be dropped from the role.”

           Knowing that her words were as honest and as truthful as he was going to get from anyone on set, his shoulders dropped in defeat. His hands were still tight, knuckles turning pale, when he sat down and Erica began to swipe concealer across his face. It was silent in the room until a sigh escaped Erica and she put the brush she’d been using down.

           “Don’t be mad at me, okay? I’m just telling you how it is,” she sighed. “I know if I was in your position, one thing I’d want would be someone who could be honest with me. I’m not going to bullshit you.”

           “I know, Erica,” Derek assured her, relaxing a tiny bit more. “And I really do appreciate it. I just wish Jackson didn’t feel the need to get in my personal business.”

           “And by personal business, you mean you wish he didn’t want to know about your infatuation with ‘ _someone_ ’,” Erica said, shiny manicured nails flashing as she did air quotes. Derek narrowed his eyes at her again but she only laughed at patted his cheek this time. “Don’t worry, your secret undying love for Stiles is safe with me.”

            “Thanks?” He mumbled in an unsure tone.

            “Anyway, do you need a ride to the party the event tonight?” She asked picking the brush back up and applying the makeup to the other side of his face.

            “Uh…what event?”

            “I don’t really know? Some supposed charity event that Jackson wants the cast to attend. I just figured you might want a ride,” Erica replied.

            “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Derek sighed.

            “Not really, no,” Erica laughed and ruffled his hair.

 

* * *

 

           Derek finished filming for the day around 3pm and decided to take himself out to a late lunch. He stopped by a restaurant he hadn’t been to in a long time - a small Italian place called Girasole, located relatively close to his apartment. Inside, he was greeted with the mouthwatering scent of garlic and a very friendly waiter. The waiter sat him at a single table next to a window, where the sunlight filtered through the glass pane and warmed his skin. Heordered his favourite pasta and a glass of red wine. He’d been a bad mood before but he was definitely feeling better now with the delicious food filling his stomach.

           Until he was reminded why exactly it was that he never came to this restaurant.

           “Well, look what we have here,” Kate Argent crowed as she approached his table.

           “Kate,” Derek growled, glaring at his plate. His fingers gripped the fork he’d been about to lift to his mouth. How could he forget that this was Kate’s favourite Italian place in town? Of course she would come here as soon as she was out in the world again.

           “Hey, Derek,” she purred, flicking her blonde hair over her shoulder. He couldn’t help but think that for someone who’d just gotten out of a mental institution where she’d been after killing an entire family, she looked pretty damn pleased with herself. “How have you been?”

           Derek felt his throat dry and he gripped the table as she grinning down at him. There she was. After all this time. _Kate._ How many nights had he waited for his chance? How many times had he rehearsed the speech he’d throw in her face if she ever got out? And yet, when he was finally presented with the chance to say everything he’d wanted to say, he was tongue tied and dripping with sweat. It was like he was 17 all over again. “Fine,” he mumbled, reaching for the dessert menu. He glared down at his hands which shook too much for him to even read the words in front of him.

           “Hmm, I’m sure. And how has Hollywood been treating you? I hear you booked a big role with Jackson Whittemore. I’m surprised he hasn’t chewed you up and spit you back out. But then, you always did like being bossed around, didn’t you?” she laughed before continuing. “Word is that you’ve moved on. Which is too bad. I mean of course, you know you’ll always be mine,” she said as slowly one of her hands crept up his arm. “We had fun, didn’t we?”

           “Kate,” he gritted out, slapping her wrist before meeting her taunting gaze with a scowl.

           “God, such a temper. When did you get so…hot?” she asked as she moved closer. He wanted to run, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “God, you really grew up well. Whatever steroids you’ve been taking have clearly been working,” she said as she stared appreciatively, eyes raking down his body, taking in every detail as Derek attempted to ignore the vile taste in his mouth.

           “Why’d they even let a psychotic bitch like you out?” he hissed as her hand trailed up his neck and rested on his cheek.

           “That’s the thing, Derek,” she smirked as she moved close enough that he could feel her breath against his skin. “It’s truly amazing how well psychotic _bitches_ like me can lie,” she whispered before pulling away. Derek flinched away from her touch as if he’d been burned by it. “Of course I know what I did was wrong, sir. I’m better now, I really am,” she said and Derek could suddenly see why she’d been nominated for so many roles. Her act was flawless.

           “You know,” she continued, watching with satisfaction as Derek shrunk in his seat. His head was pounding and he needed air. Now. It was as if her presence suffocated him, set off every alarm in his body telling him to leave. “I never really did like Laura, not the way she always stuck her nose up around me like she thought you Hales were too good for me. She cried like a _bitch_ when I set the place on fire,” she cooed, her voice lined with venom. Derek bit down a whimper.

           “Do you need to order, ma’am?” asked the waitress who was suddenly standing in front of them, pencil and notebook in hand.

           “I’d like my check please,” Derek said as he began to stand. Kate caught his wrist as the waitress stared a moment in confusion and wandered off.

           “Off to your little event? Yeah, Chris told me about that too. When you’re nailing auditions, when fans are slipping their numbers into your pocket, when you’re accepting awards, _don’t forget who made you_ ,” she smiled before releasing her grip. A few of her nails left half crescents embedded in his skin.

           The marks had faded by the time he’d paid and reached his car but the stinging sensation didn’t go away until much later.

 

* * *

 

           The moment Erica pulled up in a small blue car Derek knew that the likelihood of his night getting any better was not very high. There was a smirk on her face that he really didn’t like and he was pretty sure it had a lot to do with the fact that it reminded him of Laura and how she had that same look on her face when she was about to meddle in his business. Instead of acknowledging her, he pulled his jacket tighter around his chest and slid into the passenger seat with his eyes glaring out the windshield.

           She was still grinning like the cat that caught the canary when they arrived at the gala. As much as Derek wanted to know what she was up to, he decided instead to find the strongest alcohol in the building and consume as much of it as was possible.In almost record time, Erica had abandoned him in favor of hitting on the bartender who was silently pouring her drink as she batted her eyelashes flirtatiously. Of course, it would be like her to drag him to some Hollywood event, only to leave him stranded at the opposite side of the bar. Not that it was her fault he was here to begin with; his agent insisted he keep up public appearances and he had to find a way to make amends with Jackson. Even though he’d rather be at home watching TV and pretending like the day had never happened.

           Derek ordered a scotch and was waiting to drown his sorrows as literally as possible when he noticed Stiles out of the corner of his eye. Stiles moving without the slightest bit of grace as he weaved through the crowd, the platter in his hand shifting capriciously with every step. It was reassuring to know some things never changed. The outfit though? That was definitely new. Derek slowly took in the sight of Stiles in his black dress shirt and pants. And a white bow tie that looked completely out of place in a way that had the corners of Derek’s mouth turning upward in an amused smile.

           Just as he lifted the glass to his lips for a sip, Stiles caught sight of him. He nearly dropped the platter when he began to frantically wave at Derek. The laugh that left Derek was surprising given the mood he’d been in all day. His smile was fond as he watched Stiles blush and grab the tray with both of his hands. He approached Derek with a sheepish grin.

           “I didn’t expect to see you here,” Stiles announced, using his free hand to straighten his slightly crooked bowtie. And Derek just– jesus, it should be illegal for Stiles to wear a bowtie. For a minute, he couldn’t speak. He was speechless. Because of a bowtie. He took a huge gulp of his scotch, wincing when it burned its way down his throat, before he responded.

           “I could say the same for you,” Derek’s voice was rough from the alcohol but he paid it no mind. Instead, he took in the flush on Stiles’ cheek and the way his tongue darted between his lips when he laughed.

           “Second job, man. School loans aren’t going to pay themselves back,” Stiles explained, running a palm over his hair.

           So maybe Derek shouldn’t have been enjoying the sight as much as he was, but Stiles at least looked happier than usual since Jackson didn’t have him on a leash. And he wondered what Stiles was like away from work, lounging lazily on his couch while watching movies or playing some strange game on his laptop that involved the destruction of mythical monsters. Or aliens. Stiles looked like the type to have virtually stopped a few alien invasions in his day. Or at least, he thought about it until Stiles quirked an eyebrow at him and he realized that he hadn’t replied.

           “Right, of course. And your job is to serve pastries?” Derek asked as Stiles casted a glance at the lemon tarts that had just barely avoided falling overboard.

           “Not just pastries,” Stiles interjected, “I also serve drinks. I’m a multi-tasker of sorts,” he grinned as he set the platter down on the bar. Derek laughed and ordered a second scotch.

           “Impressive.” Stiles found himself irrationally annoyed with the fact Derek was there. Where he worked and was expected to pay attention.Where he couldn’t afford to be distracted by stupidly gorgeous actors, their stupid perfect jaw lines and their ridiculous smiles that made his heart race and his forehead sweat like he was back in high school again. And it wasn’t fair because Stiles usually wasn’t the type to get tongue tied and he certainly wasn’t one of those idiots who didn’t know when to shut up. But then there was Derek, watching him with hazel eyes that held such intensity that it made his ears burn and skin feel like a slow and steady fire was writhing beneath the surface.

           “I should get back to work,” he laughed nervously when neither one of them attempted to fill the silence but Derek shook his head.

           “Technically I’m a guest which means I’m included as one of the people you have to cater to all night. At least where desserts are involved.”

           Stiles was 100% positive that Derek should not be allowed to go around saying things like that, especially when he reached out and grabbed one of the tarts from off the tray and moaned as he bit into it, leaving a speck of whipped cream on the side of his mouth. Stiles wasreally not thinking about brushing away with the side of his thumb. No, that was Scott’s move. Not his. Plus, he had some dignity left, right?         Stiles had somehow doomed himself by even thinking his best friend’s name because at that moment he heard a voice behind him call out, “Hey, Stiles. Are you slacking off again?”

           “Nonono, not right now,” Stiles groaned as Scott approached with a lopsided grin on his tan face. Stiles turnedto shoot a glare at him. “I’m not slacking off, Scott. I’m tending to the guests.” He winced when he realized exactly what guest he was tending to. He kind of wished the ground would open up and swallow him whole – especially when Scott spotted Derek standing slightly behind Stiles. The grin on Scott’s face grew wider.

           Stiles knew that damn look. It was the same look Scott had when he’d convinced Stiles to sneak out after curfew to go to some party Allison was going to be at or when he and Stiles ‘temporarily misappropriated’ a few drinks from Stiles’ dad’s stash, or that time they thought it would be a good idea to set off firecrackers in Scott’s garage. In other words, that was the same look Scott got every time he was about to screw Stiles over. Great.

           “Uh huh, that’s what they all say. Not all of us have the good fortune to be spending our shift hanging around our celebrity crushes, you know.”

           “Like you wouldn’t be hanging off Allison’s shoulder if she were here,” Stiles countered, scowling when he realized the implication of his words, or at least that he hadn’t denied Scott’s. Could he be any more obvious? But Derek was just watching them both with an amused expression.

           “You must be Scott,” Derek smiled politely, extending his hand. Scott just nodded vaguely at him before fixing him with a knowing gaze.

           “Do you mind if I borrow Stiles for a sec? His expertise is needed for which plate of hors d’oeuvres I’m supposed to be serving next,” he said, hauling Stiles away from Derek without waiting for a reply.

           “Seriously dude? A hors d’oeuvres emergency?” Stiles laughed when they were out of hearing range and Scott gave an exaggerated eye roll.

           “Okay, it was all that I could think of. Anyway, I’ve only been watching you two for about ten minutes and it’s already nauseating.”

           “Hypocrite,” Stiles mumbled under his breath. Stiles was pretty sure Scott owed him one free pass considering he’d so kindly refrained from making fun of Scott when he wept during The Notebook. Partially because Scott had a tendency to leave a decent bruise whenever Stiles brought up his obvious weak spot for chick flicks, but still. Some things you just don’t talk about. Bro code and such. This clearly meant nothing to Scott, however, who continued to ignore Stiles’ discomfort.

           “I’m just saying, you might as well ask him out. I mean what’s the worst that could happen? And since when have you ever been the type to shy away from declarations of love? The Stiles I know is a sappy romantic. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to make one of those heart patterns in his latte or something,” he grinned and Stiles stared incredulously.

           “I like to think of myself as romantic, not idiotic. Are you insane?” He asked, waving his hands in front of him. “This is Derek Hale we’re talking about. He’s so out of my league it’s painful. He might as well be walking around with one those flashy signs with bright lights and an arrow that reads ‘totally and completely out of Stiles Stilinski’s league’. He’s the lead actor for the place that I’m doing my internship. He’s one of the celebrity guests at the event that I’m serving appetizers for while being ridiculously underpaid. Do I need to spell it out for you?”

           “Whoa, calm down there, Romeo. I’m just saying stranger things have happened. I mean Allison went for me, didn’t she?” Scott pointed out, smiling fondly, the same way he did whenever Allison was mentioned. “And besides, he may be a fancy celebrity guest at the same fancy party that you’re stuck catering for, but he seems to be ignoring everyone else in favor of hanging out with an idiot like you,” he said before shrugging and disappearing with his silver platter, leaving Stiles speechless and gaping.

 

* * *

 

           With Stiles gone, Derek’s bad mood returned. His gaze returned to his wrist where he couldn’t see the marks Kate had left but he could still feel them. He scratched at where she had grabbed him and tried to ignore the burning in his chest. He tried to replace it with the strong burn of alcohol, downing the last of the amber coloured liquid in his glass.

 

* * *

 

           When Stiles returned, he looked uneasy, biting down on his lip and fidgeting with his bowtie. His expression of discomfort changed to one of concern when he noticed the empty glass beside Derek. He just barely managed to catch it in the palm of his hand as the glass rolled from Derek’s now-clumsy fingers. Derek looked up sheepishly and Stiles bit down the heartfelt confession he’d spent ten minutes writing in his head and about fifteen minutes building up the courage to start since Scott had left him.

           “How much have you had to drink, anyway?”

           “A bit,” Derek replied stiffly.

           “Do you drink…often?” He asked and sighed when Derek shook his head roughly.

           “No. Haven’t. Not since…,” he began and shot Stiles a pained look that made his heart swell and stomach clench without knowing why.

           “Look, you should probably be heading home. It’s getting late and you look,” Stiles paused as Derek’s eyes clouded over. Derek stumbled as he moved from his stool, his face resting against Stiles’ neck. “Drunk. Definitely drunk,” he yelped, trying to repress a shudder as Derek’s stubble brushed against his cheek. He could feel his warm breath against the nape of his neck. Stiles silently prayed that Scott wouldn’t choose now to hassle him about the fact that nearly nobody at the party besides Derek had been served a lemon tart.

           “Um, did you drive yourself here?” Stiles squeaked, hoping that Derek couldn’t hear the hitch in his voice. Not that he couldn’t totally tell the way Stiles’ heart was stammering considering he was pressed so close that Stiles’ pulse was probably thundering in his ear. Derek shook his head again in reply, only Stiles couldn’t see it, just feel the slow drag of his nose, his jaw, his mouth grazing his skin. Dear god.

           “Oh,” he breathed. “Who then…?”

           “Erica,” Derek murmured sleepily against his ear.

           “Of course,” Stiles sighed, glancing towards Erica who had her arm wrapped around the bartender’s shoulder. He would scold Boyd for unprofessional conduct if it weren’t for the fact Derek was now practically clinging off him. “Alright then, I guess I’m not getting paid tonight.”

            Stiles shifted around Derek until he could pull his phone from his pocket. He managed to send Scott a text explaining that he had to take Derek home and tuck his phone away before Derek started to fall. Stiles grasped his upper arms and avoided any thoughts about how good they felt beneath his fingers or the way they’d feel bare and warm against his own skin. Well, he attempted to avoid them. That had to count for something, right? With a sigh, he led Derek toward the door.

            It was hard work getting Derek into his jeep. And he really hoped that Derek was drunk enough to not remember anything because he had definitely bashed his head against the frame at least twice, cursing under his breath each time. Once he had Derek situated in the seat, he proceeded to buckle him in. The only problem with this was that in order to actually get the seat belt around Derek, Stiles had to lean over him. So for several seconds, his chest was pressed against Derek’s stomach and thighs.

           He struggled with it for a while as his hands were shaking making him feel even more ridiculous. “Christ, Stiles,” he grumbled to himself. “Stop acting like a little girl.”

            When the seat belt finally snapped together, he grinned in victory. “Ha!” He yelled at it as he started to lean up.

            And then he yelped. Because the hand that Derek had placed against Stiles’ lower back when he wasn’t paying attention had slid down. Derek currently had a very firm grasp on Stiles’ ass. His hand was hot even through the material of Stiles’ pants and it sent a flash of arousal straight through the teen.

            Stiles glared at Derek and slapped his hand away. Not that he hadn’t liked it, but Stiles preferred to think he had more class than that. Plus, his jeep was hard enough to drive without Derek trying to ravish him whilst doing so. His life depended on having some sort of transportation and half of the money he earned went to repairs for the jeep since the damp thing broke down more often than he could count. Stiles was too old to be bumming rides in his dad’s cruiser. When he was sure Derek was rooted in his seat enough that he wouldn’t spill out, Stiles slammed the door. As he walked over to the other side of the jeep he fumbled in the dark for his keys. To any onlooker, it probably looked like he was kidnapping Derek Hale, which maybe wasn’t that far from the truth, but someone had to look after him. Stiles ignored the way his hands were still shaking as he opened his door and climbed into the front seat.

           He inched away nervously when Derek’s hand began to slowly creep up his thigh. Using his hand that wasn’t gripping the wheel, he caught Derek by the wrist.

           “N-no,” he sputtered, hoping that Derek wasn’t paying enough attention to the way his voice wavered. He chose to keep his eyes on the road but he could still feel Derek’s sidelong gaze as he sat silently in the passenger seat. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that Derek’s head was tilted, his eyebrows furrowed as if he couldn’t understand what Stiles meant or why he was being treated like a misbehaving child.

           “I said no. Do you want to hear in Spanish? Noh.”

           It wasn’t until Stiles had pulled out of the parking lot that he realized he had no idea where Derek lived. To beat everything he’d felt that night, he was nervous about actually knowing this fact about Derek. He knew things like Derek’s birthday and his favourite colour because he’d read them on the internet. But knowing where Derek lived? That made how he had been feeling all the more real. He didn’t dwell on it though because, at that moment, Derek getting home in one piece was more important than Stiles’ growing crush.

           “What’s your address?” Stiles asked as he opened the GPS on his phone. Maybe it was a bad idea to do this while driving his precious jeep but there wasn’t anywhere for him to pull over. “Derek, I need your address.”

           Derek huffed out his response like it was some great feat and while Stiles typed it into his phone, he turned to stare out the window. He didn’t move again until Stiles’ jeep was rolling to a stop in front of his apartment building. He fumbled with the door handle for a few seconds before he was actually able to grasp it with his shaky fingers and push the door open.

           “Thanks for the ride,” Derek said as he stumbled his way out of the jeep.

           It wasn’t until he had reached the door of his building that he heard the pounding of feet against pavement behind him. When he turned around, he found Stiles gasping for breath in front of him as if he’d just run a marathon. He waited until Stiles could breathe properly before cocking an eyebrow in question.

           

           “I just- I wanted to make sure you were okay? Because you don’t really seem like you are and well, y’know,” Stiles trailed off and rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Are you-” The teen didn’t get a chance to finish his question because there were lips suddenly pressing against his own.

           Derek’s mouth was hot and wet and so fucking perfect against his. Stiles couldn’t help but lean into him, hands grappling for purchase against his biceps. He parted his lips slightly and groaned in response to the sound that tore its way from Derek’s throat at the movement. After that, it was a mess of teeth tugging at his bottom lip and a tongue delving into his mouth in search of something profound. Somehow they were in an elevator. How had they gotten there? Stiles had no idea. But Derek had him pressed against the wall. Ignoring the metal bar digging into the meat of his back, Stiles used his hand to tilt Derek’s head back until he could reach his neck without struggle.

           “Stiles,” Derek gasped as said Stiles licked a stripe against the stubble that lead from the middle of his neck to his jawline. Stiles was so intent on pulling the tan flesh between his teeth and suckling on it that he didn’t hear the elevator ding. They had reached Derek’s floor. “Out. We have to get out of the elevator.”

            Stiles grunted in assent and let Derek manhandle him out into the hallway. He kept his mouth pressed against the place where he could feel Derek’s thundering pulse until Derek pushed him away so he could unlock the door to his apartment. Watching Derek fumble with his keys reminded Stiles that the older man wasn’t exactly sober. His body protested angrily at his next words.

            “Derek, we can’t.”

            Derek’s hands froze, the jangle of his keys falling silent as he turned to Stiles. “What do you mean ‘we can’t’?” He demanded. “You had no problem with what we were doing literally five seconds ago.”

            “It isn’t that I don’t want to,” Stiles rushed to explain, ignoring the aching in his hands that told him to continue with the touching. “Because believe me, buddy – I definitely want to. But don’t you think you should be a little more, I don’t know, not intoxicated?”

            “I’m not that drunk,” Derek began but Stiles shook his head.

            “You can barely unlock your door, dude,” He sighed as he took the keys from Derek. He held a small one up and proceeded to push it into the keyhole when Derek nodded. “Listen, if you remember this in morning, you know where to find me. Alright?”

            He turned back to Derek with a smile. It slid off his face a moment later when he saw Derek’s expression. He couldn’t exactly name what he saw. Hurt, disappointment, and…anger? It was the most vulnerable Stiles had ever seen him and it caused his heart to drop. Derek should never, ever have to look like that.

            Before Stiles could open his mouth to speak, Derek beat him to it.

            “It’s just that I’ve had the worst day,” his words slurred only slightly. “I ran into Kate and I just – I really wanted – I didn’t…”

            “Hey heyhey, Derek, it’s fine,” Stiles shushed him. All he’d needed to say was Kate and Stiles knew. Everyone knew, really. After the fire, it was months before any news station went even a day without mentioning it. The fact that Derek had ran into her explained the large quantity of alcohol he’d consumed. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

            “I do,” Derek disagreed allowing his eyes to meet Stiles’. “I really want to.”

            Instead of answering, because what could he even say back to that, Stiles pushed Derek’s door open and lead him inside. It was a lot messier than Stiles had expected if he was being completely honest but he didn’t have time to look around like he really wanted to. He chased Derek down the hallway and rubbed his back as he emptied his stomach into the toilet bowl. When the retching sounds became further and further apart, Stiles moved away to find a wash rag and wet it with cool water. He pressed it against the back of Derek’s neck and began to hum softly under his breath.

            He didn’t say a word about the tears that he knew were sliding down Derek’s cheeks.

 

* * *

 

            Eventually, Derek pushed himself up and, rubbing at his eyes, went to the sink. He ignored Stiles presence as he rinsed the taste of vomit from his mouth with water and mouth wash. The cool water soothed his throat but did nothing to help the throbbing in his head. He twisted the knob until the water stopped and then he turned to Stiles. He had no idea what to say. Stiles hadn’t needed to stay and help him. He could have gone already. Yet here he was, standing in Derek’s dimly lit bathroom with a hesitant smile.

            “Thank you,” he finally said. “I think I’m going to go to bed now. Are you – um, are you leaving?”

            It was quiet for a moment.

            “I could stay,” Stiles paused. “I mean, if you want. I’m not even gonna lie, your sofa looks really comfortable, dude.”

            “There’s an extra blanket on the back of the sofa,” Derek said. “And some pillows on the recliner.” He left Stiles in the bathroom and went straight to his bedroom. His clothes were left in a pile at the foot of his bed as he crawled up and flopped against the pillows. It wasn’t until he’d gotten comfortable, with the blankets pulled up around his neck that he realized he’d heard Stiles’ voice muttering goodnight.

            He fell asleep with a smile playing on his lips.

 

* * *

 

            Stiles squinted when a stream of light shined directly on his face, telling him it was probably time to get up. How long had he slept for and why was his back aching? He’d fallen asleep in his boxers and a shirt that he’d worn underneath the dress shirt. The house smelt of eggs and pancakes and from afar he could hear the sizzling of whatever else was being heated on the stove. Bacon maybe. The promise of food alone was enough reason for Stiles to haul his ass out of bed and slowly saunter over to the kitchen in a zombie-like fashion.

           He yanked the fridge open with one tug and reached for the jug of milk. He unscrewed the lid and was on his second gulp when he noticed Derek standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand. Right. Not his house. Not his milk. And everything that happened last night came rushing back in prolific detail because he had been 100% sober. Though maybe it was a dream? A dream that felt ridiculously real. The delicious smell that was wafting around the room broke him from his haze. No, last night was real, otherwise what was he doing here, standing in Derek’s kitchen?

           He wondered if Derek even remembered it at all when he noticed that oh - Derek was wearing sweatpants and no shirt. None of that was very much of a surprise, but still, Stiles had never seen the tattoo in person or on film. It was one of the details Erica had put a tedious amount of effort into concealing before shooting any shirtless scenes but this time Derek didn’t have to make any effort to hide it. Stiles wanted to ghost his hand along the bold pattern, to trace the slope of Derek’s back, to leave hungry caresses down the curve of his neck. Derek didn’t notice him standing there until his stomach grumbled angrily.

           “Uh, good morning?” Stiles said quietly as he placed the milk back in the fridge with exaggerated slowness. Derek turned to face him fully and – wait, was that… holy god, Derek had  a white apron with the words ‘World’s Best Cook’ printed on it tied around his waist. The sight of it had Stiles snickering into his hand. “Nice apron, man.”

           Derek looked down at himself and back up at Stiles with a grin. “My sister bought it for me,” he told him before spinning back toward the stove. He flipped a couple pieces of bacon before he spoke again. “I hope you’re hungry.”

           “Starving, actually.” Stiles hopped up onto the first stool at the table and leaned forward on his forearms. “So do you cook a lot?”

           “When I’m home and I have time,” Derek replied. He was piling bacon on a plate lined with a paper towel as he talked. “My mom taught me when I was younger.”

           “Same,” Stiles told him. When Derek turned to look at him, they were both smiling.

 

* * *

 

           Somehow Stiles managed to make it through breakfast, stealing the occasional glance at Derek who was too busy prodding at his giant stack of pancakes and licking a mixture of syrup and whip-cream off his lips to notice the silent battle Stiles was fighting with himself. Exactly what was the suave way to ask someone if they remembered their tongue ever being in your mouth? If there was a way, Stiles hadn’t figured it out.

           “Anyway, thanks for the breakfast,” he began, shoving his plate away from him. He was so full that even the mere sight of the food that remained on his plate gave him a queasy feeling. “I should get going. I’m supposed to be meeting Scott,” he said when Derek didn’t protest but grunted with his mouth-full of pancake. Stiles walked back to the living room and scowled at his choice of boxers- Batman of course. Really attractive, Stiles. He got dressed into the same outfit he’d worn the night before and left before Derek had a chance to say goodbye. So he might have looked a tad bit overdressed when he pulled up at a convenience store in order to pick up the usual stuff; large bags of chips and two bottles of coke. But whatever, he ignored the judgmental stares even if he probably looked like someone’s booty-call.

           His eyes were slowly trailing over the contents of one of the store’s shelves in search of salt and vinegar chips when he noticed a familiar face plastered on the cover of a gossip magazine. Letting his curiosity get the best of him, he reached for it and flipped through the thin glossy pages until he found the article he was looking for. His stomach dropped when he read the caption ‘famous actor Derek Hale finally finds comfort in the arms of beautiful costar, Lydia Martin’. He placed it back where he found it and yanked another magazine off the rack, flipping through it until he found a similar article. ‘Mystery crush finally reveal: actors finds love on set while filming 2013’s most anticipated film’.

           He shouldn’t have been surprised. Not really. Or hurt, because obviously Derek had a girlfriend. Plus Stiles and him? They weren’t a thing, as much as he wished they were. So Derek had drunkenly made out with him, really no big deal. Making breakfast for him had probably been his way of showing that he was sorry about what happened the night before. But Lydia and Derek? They made sense. Lydia, who was actually in his league due to the fact she was intimidatingly intelligent and beautiful. So he shouldn’t have felt like someone had just punched him in the stomach and knocked the air from his lungs, and yet that’s exactly how he felt. He gave up on his search for snacks and instead bought a couple of the magazines, sending off a quick text, ‘ **New plans. U and me, we’re getting drunk tonight’** before leaving the store.

 

* * *

 

           Derek couldn’t stop smiling. He felt like he could still feel Stiles’ lips pressed against his throat even if it was illogical. The thought of the wet heat of Stiles’ mouth and how it would feel wrapped around him was all he needed to bring himself off in the shower. Maybe he looked like a creep with his big stupid grin as he drove to work but he didn’t even care. He had a bit of time before he was needed on set so he settled down on the couch in his dressing room to read Stiles’ script. He’d given it to him earlier in the week. He was about a fourth of the way through it when Erica joined him. She took one look at him and broke out into a grin.

           “What?” He barked, putting the stack of papers aside. He didn’t want to stop reading because fuck, Stiles was talented but he couldn’t with Erica there.

           “Oh, nothing,” She said feigning innocence. “Just the love marks _all over your neck_.” The blush that spread across his cheeks made her cackle like the witch that she clearly was.

            He moved over to sit in the chair in front of his vanity and purposefully avoided meeting her gaze in the mirror. What had happened between him and Stiles was none of her business. He knew she was going to ask about it and he wasn’t going to tell her anything.

            “Scott told Boyd that you and Stiles left together last night,” Erica began as she picked up the concealer. She applied a thick layer to the spots he hadn’t even noticed on his neck – big, purple spots from where Stiles’ mouth had worked against his skin. “Want to tell me what you guys got up to?”

            When he shook his head, she pressed her thumb against the most sensitive mark. The growl he released only made her laugh more. But she left him alone after that as she went about applying his makeup. Once she was finished, he headed off toward the set. Before he even made it through the door, one of Jackson’s assistants stopped him and said Jackson wanted to see him in his office. He really didn’t want to deal with it at that moment but he went anyway.

            “What do you need?” He asked as he sat down.

            “I just thought you’d like to know who your new girlfriend is,” Jackson smirked as he held a magazine up. “I sent out a press release this morning.”

            Derek took the magazine from him with numb fingers, flipping through the pages until he found the one with his face plastered on it. The article title made Derek’s heart drop.

            “Why did you do this?” Derek shouted at Jackson. He threw the magazine on his desk. “I didn’t give you permission to do this, Jackson.”

            “I had to fix the problem that you caused, Derek,” Jackson snarled from across the desk. “You can’t go around saying whatever you want without consequence.”

            “What exactly would have been the horrible, horrible consequence of the media not knowing who I’m interested in?” Derek’s voice grew louder as he stood up. His hands were shaking now, with his anger. It was in that moment that it hit him. Stiles. Last night and Stiles.And now the magazines. “I have to go.”

            Derek looked everywhere. The break room, the bathroom, wardrobe – Stiles was nowhere to be found. With a resigned sigh, Derek leaned against the wall just outside of the room they were filming in for the day and dug his phone out of his pocket. Jackson would have his head if he knew that he usually kept it with him on set. He pulled up Stiles’ contact information from where he’d saved it over a week before. Maybe he’d stolen it from someone else on set – he was the only one who needed to know that bit of information.

            _‘This is Derek. We need to talk.’_

           Filming itself went by in a blur as Derek delivered his lines almost robotically, occasionally risking a glance at the cell phone he’d left on a table by their set in case Stiles decided to text him back. And judging by the fact his phone hadn’t so much as twitched since he’d placed it there, Stiles hadn’t. Which could mean a lot of things. Maybe he didn’t have his phone on him, or he was too into fixing up his screenplay to notice his phone chiming beside him. There were numerous reasons as to why Stiles wouldn’t be texting him back and so he had no reason to think that Stiles had read the articles or had seen one of those innocent (yet seemingly incriminating thanks to the asshole that was _Jackson_ ) pictures, and was now avoiding him like the plague. Right? Every second that dragged by put Derek further on edge. They did three takes of the same scene before Jackson yelled, “cut, cut, cut. We’ll take it from the top tomorrow.” He sighed irritably, glaring at Derek.

           “Hey, Derek. I know Jackson didn’t run the whole relationship thing by you,” Lydia began when he walked off set and practically lunged for his phone. “Which wasn’t the right way of handling things but we need to prepare-.”Derek wasn’t paying attention to the way her glossy lips were pressed in a hard line, or the way she placed her hand on her hip in annoyance because, after checking his messages for the second time, he was in full out panic mode.

           “Yeah, right, I have to go. Now,” he gritted as he rushed past Lydia. They could discuss the terms of their fake relationship later, when he wasn’t in the middle of a crisis. “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” he muttered into the speaker after he had aggressively punched in Stiles’ number. He let it ring five times before hitting ‘end’ and shoving it back into his pocket. This was starting to feel increasingly like active avoidance and it made Derek’s stomach wrench. Stiles needed to hear him out; he had to. With a sigh he dialed Erica’s number. “Erica, you don’t happen to have Stiles’ address, do you?”

           “I might be able to dig it up,” she hummed in a sing-song voice and Derek could tell she was enjoying having him at her mercy. “Isn’t it a little early in the day for a booty call?”

           “Erica please, this is serious, I’m desperate here.”

           “Oh I’m sure you are,” she cooed and Derek rolled his eyes, despite knowing she couldn’t see him.

 

* * *

 

 

           Derek wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been expecting. He was taken aback by how…normal Stiles’ house was. Probably because it had been a ridiculously long time since he’d seen a house that didn’t have at least four stories and a giant gate blocking the entrance.

           A minute after pressing his finger to Stiles’ doorbell, he realized that he hadn’t even thought about what he was going to say. Derek was suddenly distracted from the creeping feeling of nausea when the door swung open. Leaning against the door frame was a man around Stiles’ height, wearing a red plaid shirt and jeans. The two of them stood silently on the porch, and his blue eyes squinting as he sized Derek up.

           “You must be…Mr. Stilinski,” Derek guessed, despite the fact that he looked very little like Stiles. He took a step back when he noticed the gun holster. Mr. Stilinski nodded slowly and Derek felt the nervous urge to continue. “Right, well I’m-”

           “Derek Hale. I know who you are. You know, I’ve seen a few movies in my day, I don’t live under a rock,” he huffed indignantly and Derek felt like this was the continuation of some old argument he had no part in. “I’ve always been a bigger fan of action films such as the Die Hard series but that hardly means I’m not with it,” he continued and Derek quirked an eyebrow at him. Stiles’ dad smiled sheepishly as if only just realizing he was standing there. “Um... never mind. I didn’t know we were having guests over, especially of the famous actor variety. Stiles!” he called as he turned and yelled for his son.

           “NOT HERE DAD.”

           Stiles’ dad rolled his eyes and tried again. “Stiles…it’s-”

           “Yeah dad, I know who it is. Tell him I’m not here. Or that I’ve caught a rare and contagious disease and can’t come to the door,” he sighed from afar. From a distance Derek heard a muffled laugh.

           “Dude, is that him?” someone chuckled. It sounded like Scott. “I didn’t realize you were taking your work home with you.”

           “Oh shut up,” Stiles hissed. “Sorry, Dad.Can’t answer the door today. I’m not feeling well,” he coughed dramatically.

           Stiles’ dad smiled sympathetically as he ran a hand through his blond hair. “I don’t suppose you being here has something to do with this sudden lethal disease he’s contracted? Or the fact he’s been moping around the house all day?” he asked and Derek grimaced.

           “Maybe,” Derek admitted. Stiles’ dad gave him a hard pat on the shoulder.

           “Well I’m sure whatever it is, it’ll work itself out. He bounces back quickly, you know. Nice meeting you, Derek.”

 

* * *

 

           Stiles’ hands were shaking as he parted the blinds and watched Derek leave. He didn’t move away from the window in the living room until Derek’s sleek black car turned the corner. When he turned back to face Scott, the look on his face was plenty to make Stiles want to disappear on the spot. Scott did not wear sympathy well.

           “Don’t,” Stiles tried but his best friend stopped the tirade he knew was eminent with a wave of his hand in Stiles’ direction.

           “You really like him, don’t you?” Scott asked in a tone that spoke volumes about how unaware of this fact he had been before.

           “Why does it matter?” Stiles snapped, crossing the room and picking his controller back up. “If he liked me back – no, he obviously doesn’t if he’s with Lydia now.”

           “But he kissed you.”

           “He was drunk, Scott,” Stiles sighed. He made himself comfortable on the couch beside Scott before heunpaused the game and went back to kicking Scott’s ass. “Besides, you saw the interview too. I’m pretty sure we watched it together. When he said he was interested in someone, there were practically stars in his eyes. He’s completely smitten with Lydia.”

           The name tasted like ashes in his mouth and saying it made him wish even harder that his father would hurry up and go to work. He was in desperate need of drowning his sorrows in some Jack. And he had a lot of sorrows to drown. He couldn’t believe how…fucking stupid he had been to believe that _the_ Derek Hale would ever be interested in an unattractive, nerdy intern like himself. The gift and all of the attention he’d been giving were all his way of getting Stiles to stop forgetting his coffee order. Butter the intern up and he’ll be more compliant; it was so obvious now. But that didn’t really explain – no, reading Stiles’ script was part of it. It had to be. Why would Derek be even a little bit as in love with Stiles as the teen was with him when he had Lydia _fucking_ Martin hanging off of his arm like the pretty prize that she was?

           It wasn’t until later that night that Stiles shared the thoughts that had been knocking around in his head like an annoying pebble lodged in his shoe with Scott. Maybe it had taken half a bottle of Jack to get them out of him but once he had started, he couldn’t seem to stop. And by the time he was done, his cheeks were wet with hot tears.

“I really liked him, Scott. And not just because of his money or his famousness or his like, Adonis body. Like, I really,” Stiles broke off with a hiccup. “Liked him and I pictured like a future with him. Where we’d watch old films and read classic books aloud to one another. And like, take bubble baths while feeding each other Reese’s Cups,” This time the hiccup was accompanied with a sob. “It seemed like a real possibility until today.”

           At that point, Scott thought it was about time he took the bottle away from Stiles. He had to pry long slender fingers away from the glass but he managed to get it and hide it behind his back.

           “Listen, buddy.” Scott said as he pat Stiles on the head. When wet amber eyes fell on him, he smiled gently. “You did not see the way he was looking at you last night. It was like he was a drowning man and you were a life preserver or something.”

           “Really?” Stiles asked with a sniffle.

           “Really,” Scott nodded. “Maybe you should just, I don’t know, talk to him.”

           For a second, Stiles looked like he was listening and was actually going to talk to Derek. But then he shook his head. Stubborn as always. Scott sighed and helped Stiles up the stairs and into his bed. His friend was going to have one hell of a hangover.

 

* * *

 

           Two weeks was a long time to go without coffee. It was an even longer time to go without speaking to Stiles, who was steadily avoiding Derek. Three times. That’s how many times he’d caught Stiles staring in his direction. The first time had been a few days after he came to Stiles’ house. Stiles had been leaning against the doorframe of Derek’s dressing room, watching him with a pained expression. For a moment they had locked eyes and Stiles opened his mouth as if to say something, but an instant later he clamped it shut, placed the coffee down on Derek’s table, and slammed the door behind himself. When Derek had gone to take a sip he noticed that it felt cold, like Stiles had taken awhile to deliver it and Derek wondered just how long Stiles had been pacing outside of his dressing room before getting up the nerve to face Derek.

           The second time was when something else went wrong and the fan got stuck on the wrong setting. Lydia had to keep brushing her hair away from her face in annoyance as it billowed around her. Her hair swirled around her like bright tendrils of flame and Stiles couldn’t suppress a giggle as the cold wind bit at her cheeks. The familiar sound made Derek grin but when he glanced over at Stiles, Stiles’ smile had dissipated. There was so much pain there when Stiles’ light brown eyes caught his that Derek had to look away as something twisted in his gut. When he glanced over at Stiles again he was biting on his lip and staring at his shoes like he’d rather be anywhere but stuck in a room with Derek.

           The third time they saw each other was when Derek made his way over to Erica in order to have his makeup done. He swung the door open at the same time that Stiles stumbled out of the room and Stiles caught himself just in time to avoid bumping into Derek. Stiles reached for the door handle to steady himself and their fingers brushed for a painfully brief second before Stiles wrenched his hand away like he’d been burned. Derek searched Stiles’ face for something, anything that might mean they were okay, but Stiles was nearly expressionless as he smiled politely. It might have reassured Derek otherwise, but it looked too forced and didn’t meet his eyes as he brushed by him wordlessly.

           “Come in,” Erica called as she adjusted her low-rise red tank-top that matched her scarlet red lips. She gestured to her chair.

           “What’ll it be today? Please tell me I get to wolf you out again, it’s so fun getting rid of your eyebrows. It’s almost like I can’t see you judging me,” she laughed as she dipped a finger in hair gel.

           “Final shirtless scene, which means no tattoo,” he sighed as he unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off. Erica grinned as she run her finger tips through his hair.

           “The fact that I get paid to do this,” she said as her eyes trailed down his chest appraisingly. “It’s practically robbery. So Derek, I read something very interesting in one of my favourite gossip magazines,” Erica started as she carefully kneaded the gel through his hair.

           “Hmmm?” he murmured without glancing up at her.

           “I don’t even know why I bother with gossip magazines to be honest. All my _other_ clients tell me these things themselves. Most people have no problem with giving me the dish on everybody,” she sulked as she tugged at a strand of Derek’s hair and smiled as he winced. “I read something about you and Lydia Martin. Am I supposed to believe that she was the one who left all those love bites over your neck?”

           Derek glared at her through his reflection and gritted out, “Yes.”

           Erica stared at him skeptically, slipping her hands from his hair.

           “Lydia Martin? The same one you practically growled at a few days because she stole your sandwich from the lounge’s fridge? That Lydia?”

           Derek nodded slowly and Erica laughed as she set down the gel.

           “You know, you may not have me convinced with this little charade but I can’t say the same for the press…and _he who shall not be named_ ,” she said as she picked up a brush and swept the tip across his back, along one of the bold black spirals. “Just so you know, you’re an idiot,” she concluded and Derek grunted in agreement.

           “I know.”

 

* * *

 

           Stiles found himself wanting to talk to Derek more and more with each passing day. Because all of it had been so real, at least for him. And no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t forget about it. He’d be in the middle of writing and he’d think of Derek’s hands grasping his hips. Or maybe he would be reaching for the coffee carrier and he’d have a flash of Derek’s lips pressed against his. He tried so hard not to watch him at work, but often he would catch himself just staring. As he and Lydia laughed together or while Jackson yelled at him for whatever was pissing him off on that particular day.

           He’d even caught himself just staring at Derek as he read in the privacy of his dressing room. He’d only come to bring his coffee order but when he’d opened the door, Derek had his nose buried in a stack of paper, and his concentration face was so cute that it caused Stiles physical pain to watch him. When Derek had caught him, he almost said something snarky because it was their usual way of going about things - trading sarcastic remarks about one another. Instead, he’d closed his mouth with a snap, put the coffee cup on the table, and made sure to slam the door roughly on his way out.

           It’d been two weeks of steadily ignoring any attempts at conversation Derek made. Of just giving Derek his coffee and going about doing the rest of what Jackson wanted from him for the day – except cleaning the bathrooms. He made Greenburg do that. When he arrived at work that day, everyone who worked on the movie was on set. He approached Jackson, handing him the cappuccino he’d been sent back for (maybe he’d been distracted by thoughts of Derek and had forgotten it, that wasn’t anyone else’s business).

           “What’s going on?” He inquired, nodding toward the bustling crowd.

           “Haven’t you heard?” Jackson smirked over the lid of his cup. “Today’s the day of the big kiss.”

 

* * *

 

           It appeared that the entirety of the cast and crew was on set when Derek arrived. He looked around nervously as he allowed one of the director’s hands to move him to his spot. Why were they all just standing around like that? Today was just – oh shit. His eyes landed on Stiles. The teen was standing just behind Jackson with his lips pursed and arms crossed over his chest. When Stiles noticed him looking, he turned and walked off set. Derek was just about to follow him when Jackson stepped forward.

           “Alright, places everyone!” He shouted, clapping his hands. “Now I know you’re all excited to see the famous couple do their first on-screen kiss but you will stay out of the way and you will be quiet. Also, no fucking pictures. Am I clear?” There was a collective head nod. “Good. Action!”

 

* * *

 

           “Fucking Derek being fucking shirtless,” Stiles grumbled as he angrily filled his plate with cucumber slices and tiny tomatoes. He huffed, reaching for a spoon. “And kissing Lydia.Right in fucking front of me.”

           “Are you talking to yourself?”

           Stiles dropped the ranch covered spoon and whipped around, ignoring the splatter of white on his shirt. Speak of the devil and she shall appear - Lydia was standing in the doorway. Her hair was in knots and she was covered in dirt but she still looked absolutely stunning. It wasn’t fair. His life wasn’t fucking fair.

           

           “No,” Stiles snapped. He put his plate down and grabbed a stack of napkins. He ignored her as he wiped the ranch dip off of his shirt. His favourite shirt. _Honestly._ “Aren’t you needed on set?” He glared at her.

           “Not for a few minutes. Derek’s doing the scene where he’s running around, trying to find me,” Lydia waved her hand as if she didn’t really care about it. She grabbed a stick of celery and bit into it as she watched him. “What’s wrong with you?”

           “Nothing,” He replied, grabbing his plate with a lot more force than necessary and turning away from her. He heard her mumble a ‘whatever’ as she left.

 

* * *

 

           “Holland!” Derek shouted, crashing through a layer of trees and into a clearing. It was empty. “Holland!” He called out again, turning in circles. He whipped around when he heard leaves crunching from behind him. Lydia was standing slightly behind a tree and peering at him with wide eyes.

           “There you are,” he sighed in relief. The set was eerily silent as he crossed the fake forest clearing and took Lydia into his arms.

           “I was so scared that my spell hadn’t worked,” she whispered against his bare chest. Her breath was warm against his skin and caused small bumps to form where it touched. Lydia pulled away enough to look up at him with her bright green eyes. “But I knew you’d find me, Tyler.”

           His character’s name was the cue. They both leaned forward at the same time, breath mingling together as the space between their mouths became smaller. The moment their lips crashed together, Derek saw Stiles lingering off set out of the corner of his eye. His heart skipped a beat, the sensation a painful ache in his chest, as his eyes closed. Suddenly he was back in the elevator with Stiles – their lips hot and wet as they slid together. But only for a second. The very next he realized that the lips against his were…wrong. Completely and utterly wrong. They were smooth where he wanted them to be chapped, tasted of bubblegum flavoured lip gloss instead of peanut butter. He managed not to break character, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, but it didn’t erase the feeling of mediocrity that arose while their lips were connected.

           His lips grazed hers gently as he cupped her face in his hands. As directed, he slipped his other hand behind her neck, lacing his hands in the delicate halo of red curls that fell around her shoulder.

           “I promised I would,” he murmured loudly enough so that the speakers would pick up the sound, and swept his thumb slowly across the curve of her smile as she pulled away slightly. Her green eyes met his, red cloak pooling around them as she balanced on the tip of her toes.

           “Not the fairytale ending you had in mind?” Lydia asked as she gestured to forest around them when the fake wind cued in the background. “We’ll always have to be on the run, you and me,” she said softly as Derek untangled his fingers from her hair so that he could brush the side of her hand with his until she took it.

           “I have you, don’t I? It’s more than I could ever hope for,” he grinned and he imagined the gagging sound Stiles was most likely mentally making as he leaned forward.

           “And they all lived happily ever after,” Lydia smiled before Jackson yelled “cut” and Derek heard the familiar cue that meant end of scene.

           “That was good you two. We only have a few scenes left to wrap up before we’re done,” he beamed and Derek fought the urge to roll his eyes as Jackson asked Matt if he got any goodclose-up shots of Derek’s chest. Happy to be able to wear a shirt for the first time in hours (especially when the set was freezing and Jackson had spent half an afternoon dosing them with fake rain), he pulled a black t-shirt over his head. When he turned to look at Stiles, the teen was gone from set. Again.

 

* * *

 

           It was three more days before Derek saw Stiles. He’d only been on set once since the shirtless scene, apparently making the most of a now lax schedule. Derek would swear to every single deity there was that he hadn’t spent those nights going home and moping about his apartment, listening to every sad song he could think of while stuffing his pathetic face with pie. Only he really had and he felt like a lovesick teenager. Especially when he finally saw the person causing him to feel this way.

           Stiles stopped in the doorway of his dressing room and frowned at him through the mirror he was sitting in front of while reading. He had been waiting on Erica to come for ten minutes when the teen showed up. His brain was providing him with every curse word he’d ever heard. It had little to do with Stiles actually being there and not talking to him yet again. No, he couldn’t even think of that. Not when Stiles was wearing the shirt he’d had to borrow from Derek’s dressing room at the beginning of…whatever this was. His mouth felt dry as he stared at Stiles’ reflection.

           “Sorry, Mr. Hale, I was looking for Erica,” Stiles said with a forced smile. When he left, he closed the door behind him with a soft click. Derek flinched as if he’d slammed it.

 

* * *

 

           Stiles tapped furiously on Erica’s door, barging in only a moment later without waiting for reply. He sank into the first chair he could find as Erica watched with amusement.

           “Yeah sure Stiles, you can come in. Go ahead, make yourself at home,” she teased and Stiles smiled sheepishly, sprawling out so that his feet rested against the vanity.

           “Right. I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t-he-,” Stiles blushed as Erica arched an eyebrow at him and an irritating heat crept up his neck. His grip tightened on the magazines he was holding, crumpling the thin pages in his hands. They were new. Derek leaning dangerously close to Lydia and Lydia gazing up at him fondly was displayed on the cover.

           “Words Stiles, use words.”

           “Um,” he swallowed, suddenly unsure of what he was even doing there. He needed someone to talk to and he’d stopped mentioning Derek around Scott a week ago out of guilt. “Derek tells you stuff, right?” Erica’s smile widened when she realized this was about Derek and Stiles shrunk deeper into his chair.

           “Some things. Did you come here to gossip?”

           “Uh, no. I mean yes, sorta? I just. Want to understand, you know? What happened, I guess,” he muttered.

           “Interesting. Did you try talking to him about it?”

           “No,” Stiles groaned, carding his fingers through this hair. He’d let it grow out a little bit longer, like Erica suggested. “I’m sort of worried I’ll make an ass of myself. I’ll say something stupid, like ask him to leave Lydia for me. And I’m not that kind of guy, okay? I’m not, really. But every time I’m near him, I’m on the verge of pulling a Meredith. I’ve been so close to rushing onto set and just rehearsing the whole ‘pick me, choose me, love me’ speech. Not that he’s my McDreamy,” Stiles winced. “He’s more like a McGrumpy. McGloomy? McSourface.”

           “Stiles, did you just make a Grey’s Anatomy reference?”

           “Maybe?” he blushed. “It’s not my fault, alright. My best friend’s mom has this weird obsession with hospital-related TV shows. First it was general hospital, then Scrubs. Now it’s Greys Anatomy. She somehow tricked me into watching some of the episodes with her. I’m fairly certain bribery was involved.”

           

           “So what exactly can I help you with?” Erica asked as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Stiles chewed nervously on his bottom lip before looking up.

           “Has he ever said anything about…well, me? I’m just confused. About the whole thing, the cheating on Lydia-,” he frowned and Erica cut him off with a raised hand.

           “Look, I don’t know much about Derek’s personal life, kiddo. Mostly because he is annoyingly private about it, despite all my ‘prying’ as he would definitely call it. But I do know that he wouldn’t cheat on anyone. Ever,” she said so sternly that Stiles flinched.

           “But he-“

           “I don’t know what’s going on with Derek and Lydia. I don’t. But I do know Derek, and I’m pretty sure I know how he feels about you, hon. Derek wouldn’t cheat on someone he was with. Not after,” Erica inhaled sharply before continuing. “Stiles, do you know much about what happened to his family? The fire, I mean?”

           Stiles knew vague details. He knew there had been a fire, that Kate was said to be responsible. The rest was all just speculation, rumors that Stiles dismissed as gossip. He shook his head in response. Erica tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. Her scarlet red lips hardening into a tight line that seemed unfamiliar and so far from her usual flirty and teasing smiles.

           “I figured. He doesn’t like to take about it. When Derek got his first real breakthrough role in the movie Summoning, Kate was playing the role of his love interest’s mother. They started dating. That part I’m sure you know. She used to drag him to every event, show him off like a prize. And she was possessive, controlling. And Derek really cared about her, maybe even loved her. They’d been dating for six months when Derek walked in on her…with their director. He was heartbroken, naturally. He tried to break it off with her, and she didn’t exactly take that well,” Erica cringed as she gripped the vanity.

           “He was at an audition. When it happened. His family was visiting at the time, was going to celebrate the premier of his first breakout film, and he was only supposed to be gone for a few hours. Kate was there, when he got back. She was just watching, like she needed to see how destroyed he would be. I mean I’m sure I don’t have to point out how psychotic she is,” she sighed, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. For a moment Stiles didn’t say anything, just stared at Erica in shock.

           “I mean I knew…but I didn’t know,” he mumbled dumbly. Erica nodded empathetically.

           “Stiles, Derek has been through a lot. And maybe it’s not the easiest thing for him to just come out and say how he feels, but give him some time. And the thing with Lydia? If it even is a thing, and I do have theory that it isn’t, it won’t last. So hold in there, kiddo. Okay? And get out of my chair, that’s for paying clients only. Not that you couldn’t use a new hairdo,” she teased as she tousled his hair. Stiles obliged, clumsily pulling himself from the chair and scrambling out of the room. He’d totally forgotten to even deliver anyone’s coffee this morning. Would they bother firing him on the last week of shooting?

 

* * *

 

           It was just Stile’s luck that when he was trying to avoid everyone, he ended up running into the last person he wanted to see – Lydia. She was in the break room, fingers with nails clipped and clean tapping away at the screen of her phone as she sipped soda through a straw. _Probably diet_ , Stiles thought viciously as he glared at her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he settled into a chair and continued to watch her. He wanted to sneer at her perfectly curled strawberry blonde hair and the immaculately done makeup on her face. He had to stop himself from scoffing at the way her golden brown eye shadow made her hazel eyes stand out even more.

           He really needed to start paying attention to what he was doing because suddenly those hazel eyes were meeting his own and it was obvious that he had been staring a little too long.

           “Is there a problem, Stiles?” Lydia’s voice was sugary sweet as she blinked at him.

           “No,” Stiles snipped and then he realized he sounded like a child throwing a tantrum. “Why would there be a problem?” He asked with a bright, completely forced smile.

           “Oh, I don’t know, hon. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you’ve been giving me death stares ever since Der and I went public,” Lydia’s smile was even brighter and all teeth. Stile’s instantly thought of a lamprey which probably wasn’t even a little bit accurate but he couldn’t help the way his brain worked.

           “I don’t know wha-” Stiles started but Lydia held up a hand to stop him. She shook her head as he glared at her.

           “I know you think you aren’t being obvious, both of you actually, but it is so painfully obvious that you’re into each other. And I do mean that literally – it physically hurts me to watch you two idiots dance around each other while you think that nobody else notices it,” Lydia admonished, eyes narrowed at him in a calculating way that he really didn’t like.

           “That’s not-” Stiles began to say when Lydia cut him off with another one of her annoyingly all-knowing looks.

           “Uh huh. I’m an actress, Stiles - not dumb. I did go to Yale, after all, so don’t patronize me,” she said as she tucked a strand of coppery orange hair behind her ear. Because of course she did. _Beauty_ and _Brains_ , Stiles thought with a sinking feeling.

           “Look, I’m just going to cut to the chase, because this whole pining thing you two are doing? Extremely annoying. You can almost see the angst wafting off of you and frankly, it’s suffocating. There’s more drama going on between you two than there is on set. So for the love of god, would one of you please just man up and doing something about?” she sighed and Stiles couldn’t bring himself to feel silly about the way his jaw hung open, eyes wide as he stared at Lydia incredulously because seriously, _what?_

           “Aren’t you two…?”

           Like always, Lydia didn’t let him finish his sentence. She pursed her pink glossy lips together and arched a brow at Stiles, giving him a look he knew to mean ‘ _seriously, Stilinski? How much of an idiot are you?_ ’ It was a look he was familiar with by now because he got it from every single person he ever met, one that made him shrink in embarrassment without even knowing what it was that he’d done.

           “When Derek announced he had a crush without consulting Jackson, Jackson decided to use it to help gain some publicity for the movie. Which was a dick move, yes. But what else is new? All he had to do was show up a few public events, not deny the rumors. Besides he spent basically the whole time talking about _you_. If we really were dating, I would have dumped his ass weeks ago,” she sighed as one of her fingertips skimmed the rim of her soda can.

           “Really?” Stiles brightened, cringing a moment later when he realized, crap, so maybe Lydia did have a point about his lack of subtlety. Lydia rolled his eyes, but she still fixed him with a look of amusement.

           “Really. All I ever heard was Stiles this, Stiles that. And when he wasn’t talking about you, he was talking about your script. He printed it out and for a while he carried it with him so that he could finish reading it between breaks. Sometimes he’d burst out laughing over something he’d read and then refuse to tell me,” Lydia huffed, glaring at Stiles as if to blame him for some inside joke between Derek and him that Stiles hadn’t even known they had. And he really didn’t know what to say.

           “Or he’d talk about your characters…like they were people he knew in real life or something. Kept going on about how they had so much dimension, how each of them were heroic in their own way, yet inexcusably flawed. He’d bore me with details such as mentioning that at first each character was sort of like a stereotype or a trope, and yet as he kept reading they became more real than anything else. He told me he was in love with the story. And I guess you could say I believe him. You think you’ve seen everything until you see a grown man cry over a few pieces of paper,” she snorted, oblivious to the proverbial butterflies fluttering in Stiles’ stomach or the sudden warmth that threaded its way through his body.

           “He…cried?” Stiles choked out.

           “Yes, but he’ll deny it till his very last breath, I’m sure. And if you tell him that I told you, I’m pretty sure he’ll kill me, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t bring me up whenever you two bozos finally get your act together. I haven’t been this bored to tears since Allison tried to get me to help her with her French project. Something about La Bête du Gévaudanor something.The point is - Derek and I aren’t dating. He doesn’t have feelings for me, but I can’t say the same for you so would you please go and make up so that he can have someone to talk to about his ooey-gooey feelings?”

           Stiles nodded, suddenly feeling a bit guilty for the way he’d been apparently not-so-secretly hating Lydia ever since he’d read that stupid magazine article. How many times had he killed her in his mind by now? Eight times? Maybe it was nine.

           “Why are you being nice to me, anyway?” Stiles asked, because being helpful was never exactly one of Lydia’s priorities.

           “Why is it so hard to believe I’m a romantic? I’ve seen the Notebook more times than I can count. What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good love story. Also, I like Derek. For all of his grumpiness, he can actually be okay and it’s nice having someone to help put Jackson in his place. So I want to see him happy, and that clearly means being with you, so consider this my one act of charity,” she smiled sweetly as she pushed Stiles in the other direction. “Don’t you dare let medown. Go get your man, Stiles!”

           Stiles wasn’t entirely sure what to do first. Should he run and find Derek? Should he prepare a speech about how sorry he was for being a total moron for weeks? _Jesus Christ, weeks._ He could have been with Derek for weeks by now. Maybe he should also get Derek something, like flowers. No, not flowers. He remembered Derek mentioning once that he was allergic to the pollen in most flowers. Maybe candy. Derek had been pretty adamant about his love for Warheads. Maybe Stiles could get him a big bag of Warheads and then like, grab him up and kiss him.

           It was while he was walking through the lobby, with his mind was going a mile a minute, that his phone rang. The name Scott flashed across the screen with a picture of Scott’s crooked smile.

           “Hey, bro!” Stiles greeted in a sing song voice as he plopped down on one of the comfy looking chairs that lined the wall. “I have something awesome to tell you.”

           “Can you maybe tell me at Boyd’s party?” Scott’s voice came over the line, along with the sound of other people talking and music.

           “Boyd’s par – oh crap! I completely forgot,” Stiles hopped out of the seat in an instant heading toward the doors again. “I’m on my way, I swear.”

           “You better be,” Scott said obviously trying to be serious but failing miserably when he started to laugh. “See you soon, dude.”

           Stiles hung up as he ran the last bit to his Jeep and climbed in.

 

* * *

 

           “Are you drunk?” Scott squinted at Stiles before leaning forward and trying to grab the red cup from his hands. “I think you’re drunk.”

           “Don’t be ridiculous, dude. This is my first beer and I’ve barely had any of it,” Stiles swatted at Scott’s hands before raising the cup to his lips and taking a sip. He winced at the taste and wished that Boyd had gotten Blue Moon instead of whatever the hell this awful shit was. “Besides that, there’s a big difference between happy and drunk.”

           Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles before turning his attention back to the skinny brunette hanging off of his arm – Allison. Stiles frowned at the side of his head before looking down at the liquid in his cup. With a sigh, he lifted the cup and proceeded to down the rest of it. Why was it that seeing Scott and Allison together always made him feel so lonely? Maybe it had something to do with being single for nearly two years. His last boyfriend had been a douche anyway and he didn’t matter anymore. But the person who did was…somewhere not with Stiles who really wanted to snuggle into his warmth and kiss at the stubble across his jaw.

           Yeah, he needed more to drink if he was going to make it until he could find Derek.

 

* * *

 

           “Hey, Lydia, have you seen Stiles?” Derek asked as he poked his head around the corner.

           Looking up from the salad she’d been picking at, Lydia said, “Not for a few hours. Sorry, Der.” Then she was grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Are you finally going to talk to him?”

           Instead of responding, Derek narrowed his eyes at her and walked away.

           “Oh, wait! Derek!” Lydia was standing like she was going to run after him when he came back to the door of the break room. She smiled brightly at him, slipping back into her chair. “I just remembered that Allison mentioned something about a party tonight that Scott and Stiles were going to with her. Someone named Boyd? It’s at his house.”

 

**To Erica: Need u to tell me where Boyd lives. It’s important.**

**From Erica: R u going to crash a college party, Derek?**

**To Erica: Just give me the address, Er.**

**From Erica: 1234 College Rd. Pls don’t fuck in his room, I’m begging u.**

           Derek rolled his eyes before exiting out of the message and opening the GPS on his phone. He tapped at the screen until the address was entered and pulled out of the parking lot.

 

* * *

           “Derek, hey, what are you doing here?” Scott asked as he took a slow sip of the drink in his hand.

           “Oh you know, just in the neighborhood.”

           “Really? Cause that’s such a weird coince-,” Scott began to say when Allison nudged him for the second time.

           “No, not really, Scott. Stiles is over by the punch, Derek,” she said helpfully pointing towards where Stiles was standing.

           Derek nodded and grunted his thanks before heading towards Stiles.

           “Derek, hey,” Stiles said when the aforementioned man was standing in front of him. Derek frowned at the drink Stiles was holding as Stiles’ eyes slowly roamed over his body, taking in the white tank top, dark leather jacket and tight pants that clung firmly to his legs, with a smile tugging at his lips. He was beginning to second guess not changing out of his ‘costume’ before coming.

           “Are you drunk?’ he asked cautiously when Stiles carded his hand through his nearly medium-length hair. He didn’t look anything like the way he did when Derek had first met him, no thick glasses, graphic tees, or buzz cut. And yet he still looked like…Stiles.

           “Not drunk, I swear,” Stiles announced as he held his arms up in innocence.

           “Stiles I-,” Derek paused, eyeing Stiles warily as if he expected Stiles to make a run for it or possibly shoot him down. “I like you. Lydia and I…we were never a thing, and I tried to explain but…,” Derek sighed helplessly, silently pleading with Stiles to understand.

           “I know,” Stiles nodded, causing Derek to freeze in confusion, or maybe that was shock.

           “You…know?”

           “Erica told me kind of. And then Lydia maybe also told me. I didn’t think I’d get a chance to see you, though, because today was the last day of shooting,” Stiles grinned at Derek as he took a few steps closer so that Stiles was crowded against the wall. “So, no Lydia?”

           “Nope,” Derek smiled, and Stiles shivered under his weight. Stiles could feel Derek’s smile as his lips ghosted down his neck and then along the curve of his jaw. Someone behind them whistled and Derek squinted when the flash from a party-goer’s camera temporarily blinded him.

           “Ohmygod, Derek. Are you still wearing your fangs?” Stiles laughed when he caught a peek of one of Derek’s sharper canines.

           “I forgot to take them ofmphgg,” Derek grumbled as Stiles swiped the pad of his thumb along Derek’s teeth, pressing lightly against the sharp tips of his fangs when he reached them.

           “So cool,” Stiles whispered in awe as he placed his other hand on Derek’s hip.

           “Stiles, people are watching,” Derek hissed against Stiles’ thumb and sure enough, when he turned around to check, there was a crowd of people gathering near them.

           “Whoops,” Stiles chuckled as he pulled his thumb from Derek’s mouth. He didn’t, however, lessen his grip on Derek’s hip.

           “Want to get out of here?”

           “Definitely,” Stiles grinned before practically dragging Derek out of the party. Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles even high-fived a few people on his way out, greeting the cheering crowd with a victorious smile as he pulled at Derek by the loops of his jeans.

 

* * *

 

           Stiles’ jeep looked absolutely glorious in the parking spot next to Derek’s Camaro. As he took in the sight, waiting for Derek at the rear of his vehicle, a feeling that he couldn’t even describe to himself overwhelmed him. It was as he was thinking about the two of them being from completely different worlds but still fitting together somehow and incredibly close to reaching some sort of revelation that Derek’s arms wound around his waist.

           His feet were dangling a few inches from the asphalt, happy laughter escaping from his body and into the night air, when it hit him like a punch in the gut. His breath hitched in his throat as he looked down into Derek’s eyes.

           “I love you,” he choked out, grabbing at Derek’s hair and drawing their faces together. He placed a brief kiss on Derek’s soft mouth before pulling away to lean their foreheads together. “Holy shit, Derek. I totally love you.”

           Derek laughed, loud and hard, still clutching Stiles against him. “Me too, Stiles,” he whispered, still smiling as his lips covered Stiles’. With a hand clutching the back of his head, needy sounds escaping from the lips he had captured with his own, he began to move toward the building, practically carrying Stiles inside. He didn’t even break the kiss as an elderly couple shuffled off the elevator, and shot dirty looks their way. Derek only smiled back as he pushed the button for his floor. Stiles’ back was pressed against the wall as he trailed his lips in a hot line down his jaw. He nipped at the skin lightly, soothing it with quick swipes of his tongue.

           “I’m having déjà vu,” Stiles laughed and Derek could feel it vibrate against his lips. “We have to get off the elevator, Derek.”

           Soon they were stumbling down the hallway and toppling onto Derek’s bed. Shirts were forgotten at the foot of the bed, pants thrown to the floor with boxers following soon after. Stiles was panting loudly, moaning each time Derek’s tongue flicked out to taste his skin. His breath was hot as his lips skimmed over a nipple and down until he could nuzzle at the soft patch of hair leading to Stiles’ groin.

           “Oh my goooood,” Stiles groaned, with his head tilted back against the pillows. “This is happening and your sheets are actually silk.”

           “Mhmmm,” Derek agreed before he licked a stripe up the underside of Stiles’ cock. When he reached the tip, he took the entire length into his mouth. Stiles gasped and brought his fingers up to grasp at Derek’s hair. He tugged gently and Derek hummed lightly.

           “Your mouth. Holy shit, your mouth,” Stiles whispered, tone of voice sounding as if he were in awe of what was happening. He panted Derek’s name as he untangled one of his hands from the soft strands of hair to cup the side of his face. His thumb brushed against Derek’s cheek, tingling at the feel of stubble against his skin. A sigh left his body when Derek’s eyes fluttered closed. His head bobbed down, lips stretched over spit slick skin, and then he pulled off with a pop. He kept his eyes closed as he crept back up and blindly found Stiles’ mouth. The kiss was a perfect soft slide of lips and names gasped between teeth. It had Derek’s heart pounding in his chest, working its way up his throat as he held Stiles’ face with his hands.

           He ended the kiss to prop his head against Stiles’ shoulder where he mouthed at his collar bone and trailed his fingers down the smooth skin over Stile’s ribs. “I want you to fuck me,” He whispered the words into Stiles’ shoulder before placing a kiss in the same place.

           “You want – wait, what?” Stiles was gaping. He had to be even though Derek couldn’t see him. “That’s not how this usually works, Derek. I’m pretty sure the smaller guy is supposed to bottom.”

           Derek lifted his head to look in Stiles’ eyes. “I don’t care how it normally works.”

           “Alright, alright,” Stiles grinned at Derek, leaning forward to steal another kiss from him. “Anything you want. I mean it – anything.”

           Derek peeled himself off of Stiles’ body to dig through his bedside table for the bottle of warming lube he kept there. He pushed the bottle into the palm of Stiles’ hand and rolled over onto his stomach. The press of the mattress against his dick made him grunt but he spread his legs and tilted his hips up until he heard Stiles gasp. He smirked against the sheets where his face was buried.

           “Like what you see?”

           “Are you kidding me? I feel like a kid on Christmas morning right now, dude,” Stiles laughed as he grabbed Derek’s hips with clumsy fingers, pushing and pulling until he had him exactly where he wanted him. “I can’t believe this is happening.” His voice was reverent as he pressed a slick finger against Derek’s puckered, pink hole. He kept going, moving slowly into Derek until his knuckle was brushing against skin, and then he twisted his finger upward. He prodded gently until found the spot that made Derek literally fucking mewl.

           It wasn’t long before he was thrusting into Derek with three fingers while his hips drove back into each movement. Stiles’ breathing was shallow as he watched the way his fingers disappeared into Derek and slid back out in a steady rhythm. He couldn’t help to think it was a fucking beautiful sight as his free hand grasped one of Derek’s ass cheeks and squeezed a little more roughly than he meant to.

           “Stiles. Stiles, please,” Derek gasped into the crook of his arm. Stiles pulled his fingers out and then leaned forward to place a kiss where they had just been. Derek whimpered.

           “Condom,” Stiles panted against Derek’s ass. “I need a condom, Der.”

           “Do you?” Derek countered and Stiles had to stop because what? “I’m clean.”

           “I-I uh, me too?” Stiles hadn’t meant for his words to come out in question form.

           “You said anything I want, right?” Derek asked, pushing himself up enough to look at Stiles over his shoulder. His face was flushed red and looking at it sent a jolt through Stiles’ body. He did _that_. Stiles Stilinski had caused Derek Hale to look like a debauched teenager. “This is what I want, Stiles.”

           All Stiles could do was nod in response. When Derek smiled at him, he smiled back tentatively. An expression he didn’t know how to define crossed Derek’s face and he watched as he rolled over onto his back and let his knees fall apart. He made grabby hands until Stiles finally started to move, scooting forward to crouch between Derek’s legs. When he was close enough, Derek pulled him down until their naked chests were flush against one another, cocks brushing together. He moaned into Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles swallowed the sound, tasted it with the tip of his tongue against Derek’s teeth.

           Suddenly, there was a slick hand wrapping around his dick, tugging until his entire length was wet and warm. He pressed his forehead against Derek’s shoulder as the bigger man helped line him up and then grasped his shoulder. It was silent as he pushed in, both of them holding their breath until he was buried to the hilt in the tightness that was all Derek.

           “Oh my god,” Stiles yelped at the same time that Derek groaned out a “Fuck yes.”

           Derek’s hands slid down to cup his ass, legs wrapping around his thighs, and Stiles sank in over and over, his rhythm held steady by Derek’s guiding hands. There were hands grasping at Derek’s face, his hair, nails scraping along his thighs and fingers digging into Stiles’ ass, a tongue lapping at his adam’s apple, a stubbled jaw brushing along his collarbone. They were panting loudly, chanting the other’s name and praise and begging for more.

           Just as he came, Stiles leaned forward and mumbled into Derek’s mouth. The words struck at Derek until he was following suit, painting their chests in thick stripes. Stiles continued to mumble it until Derek pushed him down onto the mattress and curled around his small frame. The last thing he heard before he fell asleep was Stiles whispering, “I love you.”

 

* * *

 

**One Year Later…**

           “Remind me why we’re here again,” Derek sighed as he glared down at his menu. Stiles rolled his eyes as he pulled his seat closer.

           “Well, firstly, because you’ve practically had me on house arrest ever since that dude from the paparazzi jumped out from those bushes to catch of few pictures of yours truly. Secondly-,”

           “Can you really blame me?”

           “Uh yes, especially since you had that murderous look in your eyes like your next call would be to Erica, asking her to help you hide the body. And secondly, it’s our one year anniversary, and if you expected us to just stay home and order in so that we could watch movies on the couch till one of us fell asleep; well, let’s just saythat you were sadly mistaken.”

           “You could have at least dressed up a bit more if you were going to take this seriously,” Derek said as he glanced disdainfully at the red hoodie Stiles was wearing.

           “I thought we were going for pizza! I didn’t know you meant some fancy restaurant, and I sure as hell didn’t know you were going to rent out the whole restaurant. Sort of defeats the purpose of leaving our house this way, don’t you think?” Stiles huffed as he glanced around the empty restaurant.

           “It’s nicer this way. No fans or paparazzi here to bug us,” Derek admitted sheepishly.

           “Uh huh. We’re going out to watch a movie later; did you rent out the entire movie theater too?” Stiles teased as he took a sip of his coke. When Derek paled, he nearly spit his drink out.

           “You did, didn’t you?” Stiles laughed and Derek blushed in reply. “Ugh, rich people. I’m going to get home to find a trail of rose petals leading to the bed, aren’t I? And candles, loads of vanilla candles,” Stiles grinned because Derek was ridiculously predictable.

           “The bathtub,” Derek confessed. “Not that the bath has been run yet.”

           “Next time you drag me to another celebrity type event, the one’s that I’m used to _working_ at, I’m spilling my guts. Every reporter within a five mile radius will know that Derek Hale is the sappiest actor that ever was and the whole grouchy thing is a facade.”

           “Fine, if you don’t mind me telling them that my boyfriend snores in his sleep.”

           “I’m sure it’ll make front page,” Stiles snorted as he pulled out a magazine that he’d been hiding inside his jacket. He nearly laughed at the way Derek’s eyes zeroed in on it.

           “What’s that?” Derek asked as he stared warily at the glossy pages.

           “Relax, it’s just a magazine and I have something I want to show you. Ah, here it is,” Stiles grinned triumphantly as he flipped to the page about himself. “’Derek leaves Lydia for younger man’. Derek, how could you?” Stiles gasped, dangling it behind his back when Derek made a lunge for it. “Lydia’s going to be so pissed about this article. Ouuu, and here’s the part where they claim you left her for a much younger, notably ‘underage’ college student. They do know I’m 19, right?” Stiles cried indignantly.

           “At least I look hot in these candids. Oh, look here; you’re on the ‘celebrities are just like us’,” Stiles giggled as Derek made another move to grab the magazine from him. He waved a picture of Derek angrily grocery shopping in front of him. Because only Derek could make a simple task like picking up their groceries look physically painful.

           “Derek Hale goes grocery shopping? Who would have guessed?Really, it’s such a relief to know he’s anything likes us mere mortals,” Stiles smirked when Derek finally managed to snatch it from him.

           “For god sakes, Stiles. Have you decided what you’re ordering yet?” Derek groaned as he crumpled the thin magazine in his hand. Stiles nodded before sliding the menu towards him.

           “I have, so don’t even think about ordering for me like last time or there’s no way you’re getting any of this tonight,” Stiles said as he gestured to himself.

           “Hey, the waitress thought it was cute that I knew what you like to eat,” Derek tried to defend himself as he placed his menu on top of Stiles’. “And you said you did too.”

           Stiles did like it, mostly because he hated talking at restaurants, but there was no way he was admitting to it. He simply shook his head like he thought Derek was an imbecile and reached in his pocket to pull out his phone. He’d just typed in his passcode, which was definitely not Der H, when a large hand wrapped around it and tugged it out of his hand. He directed his murderous glare at Derek’s unfairly handsome face and pouted.

           “No phones while we’re on a date. Please, babe?” Derek had learned early on that using pet names were the easiest way to get Stiles to do what he wanted. And of course, you’d think that after a year of him abusing his new found power that Stiles would have built up an immunity to it. He hadn’t.

           “Fine,” his voice sounded annoyed but the smile tugging at the corner of his lips said otherwise.

           Stiles sighed dramatically when Derek’s phone began to vibrate loudly. Derek reached for it, checking the caller ID before holding his cellphone up to his ear as he ignored to looks of disapproval Stiles was shooting him.

           “Hello? Yes. Mhmm. Okay, thank you. That’s great news,” he smiled as Stiles glared at him.

           “Seriously, Derek? Whatever happened to no phones allowed?” Stiles sulked.

           “That was my agent. Calling about your script. She wanted me to know that quite a few people are interested in it,” Derek beamed proudly as he ruffled Stiles’ soft short hair with one hand, using his other hand to interlace his fingers with Stiles’.

           “Yeah well, we’ll see. I’ll have my people call your people,” Stiles replied nonchalantly, but his smug grin was enough to give away his excitement. Derek didn’t reply, instead smiled back as he gazed into Stiles’ eyes. He grinned at his boyfriend just as their waiter approached their table with a smile on his face. He seemed like he was used to having famous actors rent out the entire restaurant he worked at for romantic dates as he asked if they were ready to order. Stiles still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he could have anything on the menu and the chef in the kitchen was only cooking for the two of them. It made him wonder exactly how much it had cost for Derek to set this up.

           “Yes, we’ll start with the [Bagna Cauda](http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w97/pixiepanda2/DSC_0614a-small.jpg) with breadsticks and then I’ll have the [Agnolotti](http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w97/pixiepanda2/How_to_eat_agnolotti.jpg),” Derek turned his very literal award winning smile on the waiter (Stiles could practically see the guy swoon). “And my boyfriend will have…” That smile was turned on Stiles, sweet and enough to make his heart leap in his chest.

           “Uh…I’ll have [Lasagna Fritta](http://i174.photobucket.com/albums/w97/pixiepanda2/lasagna_fritta23.jpg)?” Stiles said in an unsure tone. He looked from Derek to the waiter with a tentative smile.

           “Anything else? Perhaps one of our wines – we do have one of the largest selections in the region,” the waiter said.

           “Definitely - we’ll have a bottle of Dolcetto. Thank you,” Derek handed him their menus. The waiter walked away in silence, leaving Stiles to gape at Derek.

           “Do I really want to know how much you’re dropping on this night alone? I really don’t think that I do,” Stiles shook his head and reached for his glass of water to take a rather large drink from it. His boyfriend was like, a freaking millionaire or something.

           “You don’t need to worry about how much I’m spending. I just want you to be happy because I’m happy,” Derek put his hand on the table wiggling his fingers until Stiles placed his on top of it.

           “I am happy, Der,” Stiles grinned. “I’m so happy that I’m about to explode into fucking rainbows over here, okay?” Derek shook his head as he laughed. “I love you.”

           “I love you too,” Derek replied squeezing Stiles’ fingers gently. “And I’ll tell you how much I spent on tonight if you really want to know.”

           “I really don’t,” Stiles told him, squeezing back.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to give us feedback and also follow us both on Tumblr if you have any questions! Our links are in the note at the beginning. Thank you so much for reading!


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